Poem Lake | Page 3 | The Greatest Poems of All Time

I dreaded that first Robin, so, I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I'm some accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though — I thought If I could only live Till that first Shout got by — Not all Pianos in... Poet:	I prayed, at first, a little Girl, I prayed, at first, a little Girl, Because they told me to — But stopped, when qualified to guess How prayer would feel — to me — If I believed God looked around, Each time my Childish eye Fixed full... Poet:	Let my first Knowing be of thee Let my first Knowing be of thee With morning's warming Light — And my first Fearing, lest Unknowns Engulf thee in the night — Poet:	My First View of a Western Prairie The loveliness of Nature, always did Delight me. In the days of childhood; when My young light heart, in all the buoyancy Of its own bright imagination’s spell, Beat in accordant consonance to all ... Poet:
My first well Day — since many ill — My first well Day — since many ill — I asked to go abroad, And take the Sunshine in my hands, And see the things in Pod — A 'blossom just when I went in To take my Chance with pain — Uncertain if... Poet:	A Parody, From The First Aeneid. DIXIT; et avertens roseâ cervice refulsit, Ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem Spiravere: pedes vestis defluxit ad imos, Et vera incessu patuit Dea. — SHE said; and turning, shew'd her wrinkled neck, ... Poet:	That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet, That first Day, when you praised Me, Sweet, And said that I was strong — And could be mighty, if I liked — That Day — the Days among — Glows Central — like a Jewel Between Diverging Golds — The Minor... Poet:	The first Day that I was a Life The first Day that I was a Life I recollect it — How still — That last Day that I was a Life I recollect it — as well — 'Twas stiller — though the first Was still — "Twas empty — but the first ... Poet:
The first Day's Night had come — The first Day's Night had come — And grateful that a thing So terrible — had been endured — I told my Soul to sing — She said her Strings were snapt — Her Bow — to Atoms blown — And so to mend her —... Poet:	The First Half of the Seventeenth Century/Chapter 1 "North and South too many an hour I've by the skipper held the wheel; Seen too many a hissing shower O'er my old sou'-wester reel." Poet: