English Poems – Page 113

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• Iter Supremum

  Oh, what a night for a soul to go!
  The wind a hawk, and the fields in snow;
  No screening cover of leaves in the wood, …

  Arthur Sherburne Hardy

• From "Wishmakers' Town"

  I
  the bells
  awake! Awake! …

  William Young

• Judith

  Flower of youth, in the ancient frame—
  Maid of the mettlesome lip and eye,
  Lightly wearing the fateful name, …

  William Young

• Philomel to Corydon

  Shepherd, wilt thou take counsel of the bird
  That oft hath hearkened, from this leafy lair,
  To love’s entreaty, and the parting word?— …

  William Young

• The High Tide at Gettysburg

  A cloud possessed the hollow field,
  The gathering battle’s smoky shield.
  Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed, …

  Will Henry Thompson

• Come Love or Death

  O lifted face of mute appeal!
  Poor tongueless pantomime of prayer!
  O sullen sea, whose deeps conceal …

  Will Henry Thompson

• Arcana Sylvarum

  Hark!…
  what booming
  Faints on the high-strung ear? …

  Charles de Kay

• Ulf in Ireland

  What then, what if my lips do burn,
  Husband, husband;
  What though thou see’st my red lips burn, …

  Charles de Kay

• The Tsigane's Canzonet

  I
  no! no!
  Bird in the darkness singing, …

  Edward King

• A Woman's Execution

  Sweet-breathed and young,
  The people’s daughter,
  No nerves unstrung, …

  Edward King

• Thoralf and Synnov

  O, have you been in Gudbrand’s dale, where Laagen’s mighty flood
  Chants evermore its wild refrain unto the listening wood?
  And have you seen the evening sun on those bright glaciers glow, …

  Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen

• The Plough-Hands' Song

  Nigger mighty happy w’en he layin’ by co’n—
  Dat sun ’s a-slantin’;
  Nigger mighty happy w’en he year de dinner ho’n— …

  Joel Chandler Harris

• My Honey, My Love

  Hit ’s a mighty fur ways up de Far’well Lane,
  My honey, my love!
  You may ax Mister Crow, you may ax Mister Crane, …

  Joel Chandler Harris

• The Happiest Heart

  Who drives the horses of the sun
  Shall lord it but a day;
  Better the lowly deed were done, …

  John Vance Cheney

• The Strong

  Dost deem him weak that owns his strength is tried?
  Nay, we may safely lean on him that grieves:
  The pine has immemorially sighed, …

  John Vance Cheney

• Every One to His Own Way

  Oak leaves are big as the mouse’s ear,
  So, farmer, go plant. But the frost—
  Beware! the witch o’ the year, …

  John Vance Cheney

• Evening Songs

  I
  the birds have hid, the winds are low,
  The brake is awake, the grass aglow: …

  John Vance Cheney

• The Skilful Listener

  The skilful listener, he, methinks, may hear
  The grass blades clash in sunny field together,
  The roses kissing, and the lily, whether …

  John Vance Cheney

• Whither

  Whither leads this pathway, little one?—
  It runs just on and on, is never done.
  Whither leads this pathway, mistress fair?— …

  John Vance Cheney

• The Flight of the War-Eagle - C. Auringer

  The eagle of the armies of the West,
  Dying upon his alp, near to the sky,
  Through the slow days that paled the imperial eye, …

  O

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