Poem Lake | Page 2 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

From “Wordsworth’s Grave” Poet who sleepest by this wandering wave! When thou wast born, what birth-gift hadst thou then? To thee what wealth was that the Immortals gave, The wealth thou gavest in thy turn to men? Not Milton’s keen, translunar music thine; Not Shakespeare’s... Poet: William Watson	The Grave of Bonaparte On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave, The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows, Like fond weeping mourners, lean over the grave. The lightnings may flash, and the loud thunders... Poet: Lyman Heath	The Grave-Yard From “a Fable for Critics” LET us glance for a moment, ’t is well worth the pains, And note what an average grave-yard contains; There lie levellers levelled, duns done up themselves, There are booksellers finally laid on their shelves, Horizontally there... Poet: James Russell Lowell	The Caverns of the Grave Ive seen * The Caverns of the Grave Ive seen And these I shewd to Englands Queen But now the Caves of Hell I view Who shall I dare to shew them to ... Poet:
The Grave of Keats Rid of the world’s injustice, and his pain, He rests at last beneath God’s veil of blue: Taken from life when life and love were new The youngest of the martyrs here is lain, Fair as Sebastian, and as early slain. ... Poet:	How fortunate the Grave — How fortunate the Grave — All Prizes to obtain — Successful certain, if at last, First Suitor not in vain. Poet:	I see thee clearer for the Grave I see thee clearer for the Grave That took thy face between No Mirror could illumine thee Like that impassive stone — I know thee better for the Act That made thee first unknown The stature of the... Poet:	It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone Enclosed 'twas not of Rail A Consciousness its Acre, and It held a Human Soul. Entombed by whom, for what offence If Home or Foreign born — Had I the curiosity... Poet:
Not any higher stands the Grave Not any higher stands the Grave For Heroes than for Men — Not any nearer for the Child Than numb Three Score and Ten — This latest Leisure equal lulls The Beggar and his Queen Propitiate this... Poet:	The grave my little cottage is, The grave my little cottage is, Where "Keeping house" for thee I make my parlor orderly And lay the marble tea. For two divided, briefly, A cycle, it may be, Till everlasting life unite ... Poet: