English Poems – Page 118

More English Poems

• The Lily of Yorrow

  Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing;
  Blue is its cup as the sky, and with mystical odor o’erflowing;
  Faintly it falls through the shadowy glades when the south wind is blowing; …

  Henry Van Dyke

• Four Things

  Four things a man must learn to do
  If he would make his record true:
  To think without confusion clearly; …

  Henry Van Dyke

• The Fighting Race - C. Clarke

  “read out the names!” and Burke sat back,
  And Kelly drooped his head.
  While Shea—they call him Scholar Jack— …

  Joseph I

• Henry Ward Beecher

  His tongue was touched with sacred fire,
  He could not rest, he must speak out,
  When Liberty lay stabbed, and doubt …

  Charles Henry Phelps

• Rare Moments

  Each of us is like Balboa: once in all our lives do we,
  Gazing from some tropic summit, look upon an unknown sea;
  But upon the dreary morrow, every way our footsteps seek, …

  Charles Henry Phelps

• Yuma

  Weary, weary, desolate,
  Sand-swept, parched, and cursed of fate;
  Burning, but how passionless! …

  Charles Henry Phelps

• From "The Voice of Webster"

  Silence was envious of the only voice
  That mightier seemed than she. So, cloaked as Death,
  With potion borrowed from Oblivion, …

  Robert Underwood Johnson

• As a Bell in a Chime

  as a bell in a chime
  Sets its twin-note a-ringing,
  As one poet’s rhyme …

  Robert Underwood Johnson

• The Wistful Days

  What is there wanting in the Spring?
  The air is soft as yesteryear;
  The happy-nested green is here, …

  Robert Underwood Johnson

• In Tesla's Laboratory

  Here in the dark what ghostly figures press!—
  No phantom of the Past, or grim or sad;
  No wailing spirit of woe; no spectre, clad …

  Robert Underwood Johnson

• Browning at Asolo

  This is the loggia Browning loved,
  High on the flank of the friendly town;
  These are the hills that his keen eye roved, …

  Robert Underwood Johnson

• The Blossom of the Soul

  Thou half-unfolded flower
  With fragrance-laden heart,
  What is the secret power …

  Robert Underwood Johnson

• At the Shrine

  A pale Italian peasant,
  Beside the dusty way,
  Upon this morning pleasant …

  Richard Kendall Munkittrick

• Ghosts

  Out in the misty moonlight
  The first snowflakes I see,
  As they frolic among the leafless …

  Richard Kendall Munkittrick

• A Bulb

  Misshapen, black, unlovely to the sight,
  O mute companion of the murky mole,
  You must feel overjoyed to have a white, …

  Richard Kendall Munkittrick

• To Miguel de Cervantes Saavadra

  A bluebird lives in yonder tree,
  Likewise a little chickadee,
  In two woodpeckers’ nests—rent free! …

  Richard Kendall Munkittrick

• The Hollyhocks

  Some space beyond the garden close
  I sauntered down the shadowed lawn;
  It was the hour when sluggards doze, …

  Craven Langstroth Betts

• Don Quixote

  Gaunt, rueful knight, on raw-boned, shambling hack,
  Thy battered morion, shield and rusty spear,
  Jog ever down the road in strange career, …

  Craven Langstroth Betts

• To the Moonflower

  Pale, climbing disk, who dost lone vigil keep
  When all the flower-heads droop in drowsy swoon;
  When lily bells fold to the zephyr’s tune, …

  Craven Langstroth Betts

• Moth-Song

  what dost thou here,
  Thou dusky courtier,
  Within the pinky palace of the rose? …

  Ellen Mackay Hutchinson Cortissoz

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