Good poems

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The Wreckers' Prayer

© Roberts Theodore Goodridge

Give us a wrack or two, Good Lard,For winter in Tops'il Tickle bes hard,Wild grey frost creepin' like mortal sinAnd perishin' lack of bread in the bin.

Ave! (An Ode for the Shelley Centenary, 1892)

© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

I Wide marshes ever washed in clearest air,Whether beneath the sole and spectral star The dear severity of dawn you wear,Or whether in the joy of ample day And speechless ecstasy of growing JuneYou lie and dream the long blue hours away Till nightfall comes too soon,Or whether, naked to the unstarred night,You strike with wondering awe my inward sight, --

II Go forth to you with longing, though the yearsThat turn not back like your returning streams And fain would mist the memory with tears,Though the inexorable years deny My feet the fellowship of your deep grass,O'er which, as o'er another, tenderer sky, Cloud phantoms drift and pass, --You know my confident love, since first, a child,Amid your wastes of green I wandered wild

White Flock

© Anna Akhmatova

Copyright Anna Akhmatova
Copyright English translation by Ilya Shambat (ilya_shambat@yahoo.com)
Origin: http://www.geocities.com/ilya_shambat/akhmatova.html

Daily Bread

© Reibetanz John

We have cried often when we have given them the little victualling wehad to give them; we had to shake them, and they have fallen to sleepwith the victuals in their mouths many a time

Ampersand

© Reibetanz John

'He thought it had only been put thereto finish off th' alphabet, like, thoughampus-and (&) would ha' done as well.' (George Eliot: Adam Bede)

On Sixe Cambridge Lasses Bathinge Themselfes by Queenes Colledge on the 25th of June at Night and Espied by a Scholer

© Thomas Randolph

When bashfull daylight now was goneAnd night, that hides a blush, came on

Song of Myself

© Raleigh Walter Alexander

I was a Poet!But I did not know it,Neither did my Mother,Nor my Sister nor my Brother

My Last Will

© Raleigh Walter Alexander

When I am safely laid away,Out of work and out of play,Sheltered by the kindly groundFrom the world of sight and sound,One or two of those I leaveWill remember me and grieve,Thinking how I made them gayBy the things I used to say;-- But the crown of their distressWill be my untidiness

As You Came from the Holy Land (attributed)

© Ralegh Sir Walter

As you came from the holy land Of Walsingham,Met you not with my true love By the way as you came?

An Essay on Man: Epistle III

© Alexander Pope

Here then we rest: "The Universal CauseActs to one end, but acts by various laws

Song

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

I shall not go with painWhether you hold me, whether you forgetMy little loss and my immortal gain.O flower unseen, O fountain sealed apart!Give me one look, one look remembering yet,Sweet heart.

Requiem

© Phillimore John Swinnerton

Brother, we do not lay you down so deep But we ourselves shall overtake you soon:We dream a little longer, while you sleep; And sleep than dreaming, yours the better boon.

The Lane

The lane runs deep in rabbit-riddled banks

Cyder

© Philips John

-- -- Honos erit huic quoq; Pomo? Virg.

Bleinheim, a Poem

© Philips John

From low and abject themes the grov'ling museNow mounts aërial, to sing of armsTriumphant, and emblaze the martial actsOf Britain's hero; may the verse not sinkBeneath his merits, but detain a whileThy ear, O Harley, (though thy country's wealDepends on thee, though mighty Anne requiresThy hourly counsels) since with ev'ry artThy self adorn'd, the mean essays of youthThou wilt not damp, but guide, wherever found,The willing genius to the muses' seat:Therefore thee first, and last, the muse shall sing