Wish poems
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There is a Hill
© Robert Seymour Bridges
There is a hill beside the silver Thames,
Shady with birch and beech and odorous pine
Hero And Leander: The Second Sestiad
© Christopher Marlowe
By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted.
The Stepmother
© James Whitcomb Riley
First she come to our house,
Tommy run and hid;
And Emily and Bob and me
We cried jus' like we did
When Mother died,--and we all said
'At we all wisht 'at we was dead!
Tale III
© George Crabbe
bound;
In all that most confines them they confide,
Their slavery boast, and make their bonds their
Dion [See Plutarch]
© William Wordsworth
Serene, and fitted to embrace,
Where'er he turned, a swan-like grace
The Ghost - Book IV
© Charles Churchill
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
"Love I have served, for such length of time"
© Thibaut de Champagne
Now God save me from love, and loving again,
Except love of Her whom we should love here,
Through whom every mans redeemed from sin.
Sonnet XXXVIII.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
FROM THE NOVEL OF EMMELINE.
WHEN welcome slumber sets my spirit free,
Forth to fictitious happiness it flies,
And where Elysian bowers of bliss arise,
Nathan The Wise - Act I
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
O Nathan, Nathan,
How miserable you had nigh become
During this little absence; for your house -
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto III.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!
The House Of Dust: {Complete}
© Conrad Aiken
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
Aletheia To Phraortes
© Walter Savage Landor
Phraortes! where art thou?
The flames were panting after us, their darts Had pierced to many hearts
Before the Gods, who heard nor prayer nor vow;
Commanders Of The Faithful
© William Makepeace Thackeray
The Pope he is a happy man,
His Palace is the Vatican,
And there he sits and drains his can:
The Pope he is a happy man.
I often say when I'm at home,
I'd like to be the Pope of Rome.
The Ghost of Goshen
© Anonymous
Through Goshen Hollow, where hemlocks grow,
Where rushing rills, with flash and flow,
Are over the rough rocks falling;
Where fox, where bear, and catamount hide,
Cliff Swallows-Missouri Breaks by Debra Nystrom: American Life in Poetry #29 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet L
© Ted Kooser
Many of you have seen flocks of birds or schools of minnows acting as if they were guided by a common intelligence, turning together, stopping together. Here is a poem by Debra Nystrom that beautifully describes a flight of swallows returning to their nests, acting as if they were of one mind. Notice how she extends the description to comment on the way human behavior differs from that of the birds.
Cliff Swallows
-Missouri Breaks
Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Power. Book III.
© Matthew Prior
Come then, my soul: I call thee by that name,
Thou busy thing, from whence I know I am;
For, knowing that I am, I know thou art,
Since that must needs exist which can impart:
But how thou camest to be, or whence thy spring,
For various of thee priests and poets sing.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 04 - part 04
© Torquato Tasso
XLIX
"Three times the shape of my dear mother came,
