Search

Search results

Displaying 101 - 110

Walt Whitman: Warble for Lilac-Time

Warble for Lilac-TimeWarble me now for joy of lilac-time, (returning in reminiscence,) Sort me O tongue and lips for Nature's sake, souvenirs of earliest summer, Gather the welcome signs, (as…

John Keats: Ode

To AutumnSonnetsOde Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new? Yes, and those of heaven commune With the…

John Keats: Bards of passion and of mirth

by John Keats FancyLines on the Mermaid TavernBards of passion and of mirth Bards of passion and of mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Have ye souls in heaven too, Double-…

Florence Wilkinson: A Memorial Tablet

A Memorial TabletOh, Agathocles, fare thee well!Florence WilkinsonNaked and brave thou goest Without one glance behind! Hast thou no fear, Agathocles, Or backward grief of mind?The dreamy…

Alice Brown: A West-Country Lover

A West-Country LoverAlice BrownThen, lady, at last thou art sick of my sighing. Good-bye! So long as I sue, thou wilt still be denying? Good-bye! Ah,…

Poems and Songs of Robert Burns: A Vision

by Robert Burns The Minstrel At LincludenA Red, Red RoseA Vision As I stood by yon roofless tower, Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air, Where the howlet mourns in her…

Amy Lowell: Roads

RoadsI know a country laced with roads, They join the hills and they span the brooks, They weave like a shuttle between broad fields, And slide discreetly through hidden nooks. They are…

Robert Graves: The Next War

The Next WarYou young friskies who today Jump and fight in Father's hay With bows and arrows and wooden spears, Playing at Royal Welch Fusiliers, Happy though these hours you spend, Have they…

Richard Burton: Across the Fields to Anne

Across the Fields to AnneRichard BurtonHow often in the summer-tide, His graver business set aside, Has stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed, As to the pipe of Pan, Stepped blithesomely with…

Robert Frost: After Apple-Picking

After Apple-PickingRobert FrostMy long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside it, and there may be two or three…