English poetry

English Poems – Page 45

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Gifts

Give a man a horse he can ride,
Give a man a boat he can sail;
And his rank and wealth, his strength and health, …

James Thomson
The Vine

The wine of Love is music,
And the feast of Love is song:
And when Love sits down to the banquet, …

James Thomson
Summer Dawn

Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips …

William Morris
The Nymph's Song to Hylas

I KNOW a little garden-close
Set thick with lily and red rose,
Where I would wander if I might …

William Morris
The Water-Nymph and the Boy

I FLUNG me round him,
I drew him under;
I clung, I drown'd him, …

Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel
The Old

They are waiting on the shore
For the bark to take them home:
They will toil and grieve no more; …

Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel
Meet We no Angels, Pansie?

Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,
In white, to find her lover;
The grass grew proud beneath her feet, …

Thomas Ashe
To Two Bereaved

You must be sad; for though it is to Heaven,
'Tis hard to yield a little girl of seven.
Alas, for me 'tis hard my grief to rule, …

Thomas Ashe
Wassail Chorus at the Mermaid Tavern

christmas knows a merry, merry place,
Where he goes with fondest face,
Brightest eye, brightest hair: …

Theodore Watts-Dunton
Chorus from 'Atalanta'

When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces,
The mother of months in meadow or plain
Fills the shadows and windy places …

Algernon Charles Swinburne
Hertha

I AM that which began;
Out of me the years roll;
Out of me God and man; …

Algernon Charles Swinburne
Ave atque Vale

Shall I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel,
Brother, on this that was the veil of thee?
Or quiet sea-flower moulded by the sea, …

Algernon Charles Swinburne
Itylus

Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow,
How can thine heart be full of the spring?
A thousand summers are over and dead. …

Algernon Charles Swinburne
Earliest Spring

Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,
Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,
Through all the moaning chimneys, and 'thwart all the hollows and angles …

William Dean Howells
What the Bullet sang

O JOY of creation,
To be!
O rapture, to fly …

Bret Harte
Maureen

O, YOU plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,
Girl of my choice, Maureen!
Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies, …

John Todhunter
Aghadoe

There 's a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,
There 's a green and silent glade in Aghadoe,
Where we met, my love and I, Love's fair planet in the sky, …

John Todhunter
The Desolate City

Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?
Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. …

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
With Esther

He who has once been happy is for aye
Out of destruction's reach. His fortune then
Holds nothing secret; and Eternity, …

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
To Manon, on his Fortune in loving Her

I DID not choose thee, dearest. It was Love
That made the choice, not I. Mine eyes were blind
As a rude shepherd's who to some lone grove …

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt