English Poems – Page 136

More English Poems

• Four-Leaf Clover

  I know a place where the sun is like gold,
  And the cherry blooms burst with snow,
  And down underneath is the loveliest nook, …

  Ella Higginson

• To a Whithered Rose

  Thy span of life was all too short—
  A week or two at best—
  From budding-time, through blossoming, …

  John Kendrick Bangs

• May 30, 1893

  It seemed to be but chance, yet who shall say
  That ’t was not part of Nature ’s own sweet way,
  That on the field where once the cannon’s breath …

  John Kendrick Bangs

• The Little Elf

  I met a little Elf-man, once,
  Down where the lilies blow.
  I asked him why he was so small …

  John Kendrick Bangs

• If Spirits Walk

  If spirits walk, love, when the night climbs slow
  The slant footpath where we were wont to go,
  Be sure that I shall take the selfsame way …

  Sophie Jewett

• Armistice

  The water sings along our keel,
  The wind falls to a whispering breath;
  I look into your eyes and feel …

  Sophie Jewett

• When Nature Hath Betrayed the Heart That Loved Her

  The gray waves rock against the gray skyline,
  And break complaining on the long gray sand,
  Here where I sit, who cannot understand …

  Sophie Jewett

• A Smiling Demon of Notre Dame

  Quiet as are the quiet skies
  He watches where the city lies
  Floating in vision clear or dim …

  Sophie Jewett

• Budding-Time Too Brief

  O little buds, break not so fast!
  The spring’s but new.
  The skies will yet be brighter blue, …

  Evaleen Stein

• In Mexico

  The cactus towers, straight and tall,
  Through fallow fields of chapparal;
  And here and there, in paths apart, …

  Evaleen Stein

• In Youth

  Not lips of mine have ever said:
  “Would God that I were dead!”
  Nay, cruel griefs! ye cannot break …

  Evaleen Stein

• Flood-Time on the Marshes

  Dear marshes, by no hand of man
  Laboriously sown,
  My river clasps you in its arms …

  Evaleen Stein

• The Fire i' the Flint

  The sudden thrust of speech is no mean test
  Of man or woman. Caesar, with his cry
  Of anguish,—Pilate, putting justice by,— …

  Lucy Robinson

• Hic Me, Pater Optime, Fessam Deseris

  Ere yet in Vergil I could scan or spell,
  Or through the enchanted portal of that lay
  Dear to old Rome had found my faltering way, …

  Lucy Robinson

• A Ballade of Islands

  I would I had been island-born.
  I dearly love things insular:
  The coral bed, the quaint bazaar, …

  Lucy Robinson

• A Belated Violet

  Very dark the autumn sky,
  Dark the clouds that hurried by;
  Very rough the autumn breeze …

  Oliver Herford

• Why Ye Blossome Cometh before Ye Leafe

  Once hoary Winter chanced—alas!
  Alas! hys waye mistaking—
  A leafless apple-tree to pass …

  Oliver Herford

• The Elf and the Dormouse

  Under a toadstool
  Crept a wee Elf,
  Out of the rain, …

  Oliver Herford

• The Mon-Goos

  This, children, is the famed Mon-goos.
  He has an ap-pe-tite ab-struse:
  Strange to re-late, this crea-ture takes …

  Oliver Herford

• A Mood

  It is good to strive against wind and rain
  In the keen, sweet weather that autumn brings.
  The wild horse shakes not the drops from his mane, …

  Amelie Troubetzkoy

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