English Poems – Page 47

More English Poems

• Revelation

  into the silver night
  She brought with her pale hand
  The topaz lanthorn-light, …

  Edmund Gosse

• Romance

  I WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight
  Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
  I will make a palace fit for you and me, …

  Robert Louis Stevenson

• In the Highlands

  In the highlands, in the country places,
  Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
  And the young fair maidens …

  Robert Louis Stevenson

• Requiem

  Under the wide and starry sky
  Dig the grave and let me lie:
  Glad did I live and gladly die, …

  Robert Louis Stevenson

• The Dead at Clonmacnois

  In a quiet water'd land, a land of roses,
  Stands Saint Kieran's city fair;
  And the warriors of Erin in their famous generations …

  T. W. Rolleston

• The Last Rose

  'o WHICH is the last rose?'
  A blossom of no name.
  At midnight the snow came; …

  John Davidson

• Ode in May

  Let me go forth, and share
  The overflowing Sun
  With one wise friend, or one …

  William Watson

• The Great Misgiving

  'not ours,' say some, 'the thought of death to dread;
  Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell:
  Life is a feast, and we have banqueted— …

  William Watson

• Prayers

  God who created me
  Nimble and light of limb,
  In three elements free, …

  Henry Charles Beeching

• Going down Hill on a Bicycle

  With lifted feet, hands still,
  I am poised, and down the hill
  Dart, with heedful mind; …

  Henry Charles Beeching

• Why

  For a name unknown,
  Whose fame unblown
  Sleeps in the hills …

  Bliss Carman

• My Grief on the Sea

  My grief on the sea,
  How the waves of it roll!
  For they heave between me …

  Douglas Hyde

• The Phoenix

  By feathers green, across Casbeen
  The pilgrims track the Phoenix flown,
  By gems he strew'd in waste and wood, …

  Arthur Christopher Benson

• He fell among Thieves

  'ye have robb'd,' said he, 'ye have slaughter'd and made an end,
  Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:
  What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?' …

  Henry Newbolt

• Reunited

  When you and I have play'd the little hour,
  Have seen the tall subaltern Life to Death
  Yield up his sword; and, smiling, draw the breath, …

  Gilbert Parker

• Where My Books go

  All the words that I utter,
  And all the words that I write,
  Must spread out their wings untiring, …

  William Butler Yeats

• The Lake Isle of Innisfree

  I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
  And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
  Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, …

  William Butler Yeats

• A Dedication

  My new-cut ashlar takes the light
  Where crimson-blank the windows flare;
  By my own work, before the night, …

  Rudyard Kipling

• L'Envoi

  There 's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield
  And the ricks stand gray to the sun,
  Singing:—'Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover …

  Rudyard Kipling

• Recessional

  God of our fathers, known of old—
  Lord of our far-flung battle-line—
  Beneath whose awful Hand we hold …

  Rudyard Kipling

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