Wish poems
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Anna, Thy Charms
© Robert Burns
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
My Chinee Cook.
© James Brunton Stephens
THEY who say the bush is dull are not so very far astray,
For this eucalyptic cloisterdom is anything but gay;
Midsummer Vigil
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Night smiles on me with her stars,
Mystic, pure, enchanted, lone.
Light, that only heaven discloses,
Is in heaven that no cloud mars;
Here, through murmuring darkness blown,
Comes the scent of unseen roses.
Sonnet. "I would I knew the lady of thy heart!"
© Frances Anne Kemble
I would I knew the lady of thy heart!
She whom thou lov'st, perchance, as I love thee.
Tale I
© George Crabbe
THE DUMB ORATORS; OR THE BENEFIT OF SOCIETY.
That all men would be cowards if they dare,
At Evening
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Fly home, my thoughts, that fretting
In alien words all day,
Have longed for the sun's setting
And wished all words away.
Fly home to her that knows you,
And in her heart repose you.
Romancin'
© James Whitcomb Riley
I' b'en a-kindo musin', as the feller says, and I'm
About o' the conclusion that they ain't no better time,
When you come to cipher on it, than the times we used to know
When we swore our first "dog-gone-it" sorto solem'-like and low!
Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."
The Origin Of Flattery
© Charlotte Turner Smith
WHEN Jove, in anger to the sons of the earth,
Bid artful Vulcan give Pandora birth,
And sent the fatal gift which spread below
O'er all the wretched race contagious woe,
The Pleasures of Memory - Part II.
© Samuel Rogers
Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale,
Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail,
To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours.
Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
Fragment
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Descriptive of the miseries of War; from a Poem
called "The Emigrants," printed in 1793.
TO a wild mountain, whose bare summit hides
Its broken eminence in clouds; whose steeps
Content
© John Cunningham
O'er moorlands and mountains, rude, barren, and bare,
As wilder'd and weary'd I roam,
The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society
© Oliver Goldsmith
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow
Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,
Don Juan: Canto The Sixth
© George Gordon Byron
'There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,
To The Duke Of Dorset
© George Gordon Byron
Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,
Exploring every path of Ida's glade;
The Four Seasons : Autumn
© James Thomson
Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Beer
© Charles Stuart Calverley
In those old days which poets say were golden -
(Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:
High-Worthy Mister!
© James Russell Lowell
Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown,
An' peeked in thru the winder,
An' there sot Huldy all alone,
'ith no one nigh to hender.
