Design poems
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The Rising Village
© Oliver Goldsmith
Thou dear companion of my early years,Partner of all my boyish hopes and fears,To whom I oft addressed the youthful strain,And sought no other praise than thine to gain;Who oft hast bid me emulate his fameWhose genius formed the glory of our name;Say, when thou canst, in manhood's ripened age,With judgment scan the more aspiring page,Wilt thou accept this tribute of my lay,By far too small thy fondness to repay?Say, dearest Brother, wilt thou now excuseThis bolder flight of my adventurous muse? If, then, adown your cheek a tear should flowFor Auburn's Village, and its speechless woe;If, while you weep, you think the
To Mr. Blanchard, the Celebrated Aeronaut
© Philip Morin Freneau
Nil Mortalibus ard unum lestCoelum ipsum petimus stuttistra. HORACE.
An Evening Contemplation in a College
© Duncombe John
The Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates,With jarring sound the porter turns the key,Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits,And slowly, sternly quits it -- tho' for me.
Cooper's Hill (1655)
© Sir John Denham
Sure there are poets which did never dreamUpon Parnassus, nor did taste the streamOf Helicon, we therefore may supposeThose made not poets, but the poets those
Cooper's Hill (1642)
© Sir John Denham
Sure we have poets that did never dreamUpon Parnassus, nor did taste the streamOf Helicon, and therefore I supposeThose made not poets, but the poets those
Delia VI
© Samuel Daniel
Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair:Her brow shades frowns although her eyes are sunny,Her smiles are lightning though her pride despair,And her disdains are gall, her favours honey;A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour,Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love,The wonder of all eyes that look upon her:Sacred on earth, design'd a saint above
The Beira Malaria
© Craig Thomas
When you rise to greet old Phœbus with a booming in your head, And your temples throb and threaten straight to burst;When your tongue feels like a doormat and your eyelids feel like lead, And your throat is dry and parched with burning thirst; When your eyeballs shun the light; And the sunshine seems a blight,You may moan your luck, and wish you'd ne'er been weaned, For your star is unpropitious And the Fates have hit you "vicious,"And you're "collared" by the Beira Fever Fiend; For he's a "daisy" -- he's a "lamb" -- And Rudyard's kippered "damn"Seems gurgling baby-prattle meant to grieve you, While the curs'd malaria rages Through it's flaming fiery stages --Only scientific swearing will relieve you
The Task: from Book V: The Winter Morning Walk
© William Cowper
'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orbAscending, fires th' horizon: while the clouds,That crowd away before the driving wind,More ardent as the disk emerges more,Resemble most some city in a blaze,Seen through the leafless wood
The Passions
© William Taylor Collins
When Music, heav'nly maid, was young,While yet in early Greece she sung,The Passions oft, to hear her shell,Throng'd around her magic cell,Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,Possest beyond the Muse's painting;By turns they felt the glowing mindDisturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd:Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd,Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd,From the supporting myrtles roundThey snatch'd her instruments of sound;And as they oft had heard apartSweet lessons of her forceful art,Each, for madness rul'd the hour,Would prove his own expressive pow'r
The Bishop Orders his Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church Rome, 15--
© Robert Browning
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?Nephews--sons mine
To Mrs. P********, with some Drawings of Birds and Insects
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
The kindred arts to please thee shall conspire,One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. (Pope)
Mary Hamilton
© Anonymous
Word 's gane to the kitchen, And word 's gane to the ha,That Marie Hamilton gangs wi bairn To the hichest Stewart of a'.
The Campaign
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign
The Wants of Man
© Adams John Quincy
Man wants but little here below,Nor wants that little long. -- Goldsmith's Hermit
Convergence Of The Twain
© Thomas Hardy
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
Henry And Emma. A Poem.
© Matthew Prior
Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.
To Doctor Lang
© Charles Harpur
Little, perhaps, thou valuest verse of mine
Little hast read of what my hand has wrought,
