English poetry

English Poems – Page 91

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'T is but a Little Faded Flower

’t is but a little faded flower,
But oh, how fondly dear!
’T will bring me back one golden hour, …

Ellen Clementine Howarth
Olivia

What are the long waves singing so mournfully evermore?
What are they singing so mournfully as they weep on the sandy shore?
“Olivia, oh, Olivia!”—what else can it seem to be? …

Edward Pollock
Under the Snow

It was Christmas Eve in the year fourteen,
And, as ancient dalesmen used to tell,
The wildest winter they ever had seen, …

Robert Collyer
Tacking Ship off Shore

The weather-leech of the topsail shivers,
The bowlines strain, and the lee-shrouds slacken,
The braces are taut, the lithe boom quivers, …

Walter Mitchell
Antony to Cleopatra

I am dying, Egypt, dying!
Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows …

William Haines Lytle
The Second Mate

“ho, there! Fisherman, hold your hand!
Tell me, what is that far away,—
There, where over the isle of sand …

Fitz-James O'Brien
To an Autumn Leaf

The scarlet tide of summer’s life
Is ebbing toward a shoreless sea;
Late fell before the reaper’s knife …

Albert Mathews
Ebb and Flow

I walked beside the evening sea,
And dreamed a dream that could not be;
The waves that plunged along the shore …

George William Curtis
Thalatta! Thalatta!

I stand upon the summit of my life:
Behind, the camp, the court, the field, the grove,
The battle and the burden; vast, afar, …

Joseph Brownlee Brown
Incognita of Raphael

Long has the summer sunlight shone
On the fair form, the quaint costume;
Yet, nameless still, she sits, unknown, …

William Allen Butler
On One Who Died in May

Why, death, what dost thou here,
This time o’ year?
Peach-blow and apple-blossom; …

Clarence Chatham Cook
But Once

Tell me, wide wandering soul, in all thy quest
Sipping or draining deep from crystal rim
Where pleasure sparkled, when did over brim …

Theodore Winthrop
Alma Mater's Roll

I saw her scan her sacred scroll,
I saw her read her record roll
Of men who wrought to win the right, …

Edward Everett Hale
Bookra

One night I lay asleep in Africa,
In a closed garden by the city gate;
A desert horseman, furious and late, …

Charles Dudley Warner
On a Boy's First Reading of "King Henry V"

When youth was lord of my unchallenged fate,
And time seemed but the vassal of my will,
I entertainëd certain guests of state— …

Silas Weir Mitchell
To a Magnolia Flower in the Garden of the Armenian Convent at Venice

I saw thy beauty in its high estate
Of perfect empire, where at set of sun
In the cool twilight of thy lucent leaves …

Silas Weir Mitchell
Of One Who Seemed to Have Failed

Death ’s but one more to-morrow. Thou art gray
With many a death of many a yesterday.
O yearning heart that lacked the athlete’s force …

Silas Weir Mitchell
The Quaker Graveyard

Four straight brick walls, severely plain,
A quiet city square surround;
A level space of nameless graves,— …

Silas Weir Mitchell
Idleness

There is no dearer lover of lost hours
Than I.
I can be idler than the idlest flowers; …

Silas Weir Mitchell
A Decanter of Madeira, Aged 86, to George Bancroft, Aged 86, Greeting

Good master, you and I were born
In “Teacup days” of hoop and hood,
And when the silver cue hung down, …

Silas Weir Mitchell