Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

A Song about Singing O Nightingale, the poet’s bird, A kinsman dear thou art, Who never sings so well as when The rose-thorns bruise his heart. But since thy agony can make A listening world so blest, Be sure it cares but little for Thy wounded,... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	In November Brown earth-line meets gray heaven, And all the land looks sad; But Love ’s the little leaven That works the whole world glad. Sigh, bitter win; lower, frore clouds of gray: My Love and I are living now in May! Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	Music of Hungary My body answers you, my blood Leaps at your maddening, piercing call The fierce notes startle, and the veil Of this dull present seems to fall. My soul responds to that long cry; It wants its country, Hungary! Not mine by birth. Yet have I... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	A Crowned Poet In thy coach of state Pass, O King, along: He no envy feels To whom God giveth song. Starving, still I smile, Laugh at want and wrong: He is fed and crowned To whom God giveth song. Better than all pomps That... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich
Love's Change I Went to dig a grave for Love, But the earth was so stiff and cold That, though I strove through the bitter night, I could not break the mould. And I said: “Must he lie in my house in state, And stay in his wonted place? Must I have him... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	Fraternity I Ask not how thy suffering came, Or if by sin, or if by shame, Or if by Fate’s capricious rulings: To my large pity all’s the same. Come close and lean against a heart Eaten by pain and stung by smart; It is enough if thou hast suffered,—... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	Recollection How can it be that I forget The way he phrased my doom, When I recall the arabesques That carpeted the room? How can it be that I forget His look and mien that hour, When I recall I wore a rose, And still can smell the flower?... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	April-and Dying Green blood fresh pulsing through the trees, Blacks buds, that sun and shower distend; All other things begin anew, But I must end. Warm sunlight on faint-colored sward, Warm fragrance in the breezes’ breath; For other things art heat and... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich
A Little Parable I Made the cross myself whose weight Was later laid on me. This thought is torture as I toil Up life’s steep Calvary. To think mine own hands drove the nails! I sang a merry song, And chose the heaviest wood I had To build it firm... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich	Death at Daybreak I Shall go out when the light comes in— There lie my cast-off form and face; I shall pass Dawn on her way to earth, As I seek for a path through space. I shall go out when the light comes in; Would I might take one ray with me! It is... Poet: Anne Reeve Aldrich