English Poems – Page 129

More English Poems

• Arraignment

  “not ye who have stoned, not ye who have smitten us,” cry
  The sad, great souls, as they go out hence into dark,—
  “Not ye we accuse, though for you was our passion borne; …

  Helen Gray Cone

• Thisbe

  The garden within was shaded,
  And guarded about from sight;
  The fragrance flowed to the south wind, …

  Helen Gray Cone

• The Contrast

  He loved her, having felt his love begin
  With that first look,—as lover oft avers.
  He made pale flowers his pleading ministers, …

  Helen Gray Cone

• The Last Cup of Canary

  So, the powder ’s low, and the larder ’s clean,
  And surrender drapes, with its blacks impending,
  All the stage for a sorry and sullen scene: …

  Helen Gray Cone

• The Spring Beauties

  The puritan Spring Beauties stood freshly clad for church;
  A Thrush, white-breasted, o’er them sat singing on his perch.
  “Happy be! for fair are ye!” the gentle singer told them, …

  Helen Gray Cone

• Fair England

  White england shouldering from the sea,
  Green England in thy rainy veil,
  Old island-nest of Liberty …

  Helen Gray Cone

• The First Song

  A poet writ a song of May
  That checked his breath awhile;
  He kept it for a summer day, …

  Richard Burton

• On a Ferry Boat

  The river widens to a pathless sea
  Beneath the rain and mist and sullen skies.
  Look out the window; ’t is a gray emprise, …

  Richard Burton

• Black Sheep

  From their folded mates they wander far,
  Their ways seem harsh and wild:
  They follow the beck of a baleful star, …

  Richard Burton

• The Forefather

  Here at the country inn,
  I lie in my quiet bed,
  And the ardent onrush of armies …

  Richard Burton

• Extras

  The crocuses in the Square
  Lend a winsome touch to the May;
  The clouds are vanished away, …

  Richard Burton

• Love Is Strong

  A viewless thing is the wind,
  But its strength is mightier far
  Than a phalanxed host in battle line, …

  Richard Burton

• An Unpraised Picture

  I saw a picture once by Angelo.
  “Unfinished,” said the critic; “done in youth;”
  And that was all, no thought of praise, forsooth! …

  Richard Burton

• The Polar Quest

  Unconquerably, men venture on the quest
  And seek an ocean amplitude unsailed,
  Cold, virgin, awful. Scorning ease and rest, …

  Richard Burton

• In Sleep

  Not drowsihood and dreams and mere idless,
  Nor yet the blessedness of strength regained,
  Alone are in what men call sleep. The past, …

  Richard Burton

• Robin's Secret

  ’t is the blithest, bonniest weather for a bird to flirt a feather,
  For a bird to trill and warble, all his wee red breast a-swell.
  I ’ve a secret. You may listen till your blue eyes dance and glisten, …

  Katharine Lee Bates

• A Song of Riches

  What will you give to a barefoot lass,
  Morning with breath like wine?
  Wade, bare feet! In my wide morass …

  Katharine Lee Bates

• The Little Knight in Green

  What fragrant-footed comer
  Is stepping o’er my head?
  Behold, my queen! the Summer! …

  Katharine Lee Bates

• On a Cast from an Antique

  Headless, without an arm, a figure leans
  By something vaguely Greek,—a fount, an urn;
  Dim stairs climb past her where one’s thoughts discern …

  George Pellew

• The Tutelage

  In the coiled shell sounds Ocean’s distant roar,
  Oft to our listening hearts come heavenly strains;—
  Men say, “That was the blood in our own veins, …

  Robert Mowry Bell

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