God poems

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194

Defeat

© Woodrow Constance

Between the grey monotony of sky And darker grey monotony of seaA solitary seagull passes by, Beating the air, and screaming plaintively.

I. W. To her Unconstant Lover

© Isabella Whitney

As close as you your wedding kept, yet now the truth I hear,Which you (ere now) might me have told -- what need you nay to swear?

Upon His Majesty’s Repairing of Paul’s

Scarce suffer'd more upon Melita's shore,Than did his Temple in the sea of Time(Our Nation's Glory, and our Nation's Crime)When the first Monarch of this happy Isle,Mov'd with the ruin of so brave a pile,This work of cost and piety begunTo be accomplish'd by his glorious Son:Who all that came within the ample thoughtOf his wise Sire, has to perfection brought

To A Greek Girl On The Seashore

© Turner Charles (Tennyson)

There are no heathen gods to play the rogueWith wandering maidens, as in olden time;Whose wild Olympian hearts were all agogTo choose their victim, and inflict their crime:Thou hast been gathering flowers, a fragrant store,But no grim Dis has seiz'd thee for his bride;And though thou rovest on this houseless shoreNo horned Zeus betrays thee to the tide

A Poem, Addressed to the Lord Privy Seal, on the Prospect of Peace

© Thomas Tickell

To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song

Epitaph in Ballade Form which Villon Made for Himself

© Thorley Wilfred Charles

O brother men that live when we have end, Let not your hearts 'gainst us be hardenynge;For if on us your pitie ye doe spend, Likewyse to you shall Godde be pityinge

Ballade Made for his Mother that She mighte Praye toe our Ladye

© Thorley Wilfred Charles

Ladye of heaven that o'er earth hath swaye And of Hell's marshes art most Royal Reeve,Grant toe thy humble Christian that doth praye

Art

© Thorley Wilfred Charles

All finest art is seen In forms that foil the bladeUnkeen -- Verse, marble, gem inlaid.

April

© Thorley Wilfred Charles

April, pryde of all the yeareWhen appeare Leaves, and sap in fleecy budGently stirs with hope to yieldFruit fulfilled From the younglynges of the wood;

The Seasons: A Poem

© James Thomson

The Argument

In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]

© Alfred Tennyson

[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;

Œnone

© Alfred Tennyson

There lies a vale in Ida, lovelierThan all the valleys of Ionian hills

Hymn to Proserpine

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

Vicisti, Galilæe.

Atalanta in Calydon: A Tragedy (complete text)

Tous zontas eu dran. katthanon de pas anerGe kai skia. to meden eis ouden repei

Atalanta in Calydon

When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plainFills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain;And the brown bright nightingale amorousIs half assuaged for Itylus,For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The tongueless vigil, and all the pain