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

House Shall I sonnet-sing you about myself? Do I live in a house you would like to see? Is it scant of gear, has it store of pelf? “Unlock my heart with a sonnet-key?” Invite the world, as my betters have done? “Take notice: this building remains on view... Poet: Robert Browning	The Modern House That Jack Built Behold the mansion reared by dædal Jack. See the malt, stored in many a plethoric sack, In the proud cirque of Ivan’s bivouac. Mark how the rat’s felonious fangs invade The golden stores in John’s pavilion laid. Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin... Poet: Anonymous	Eden is that old-fashioned House Eden is that old-fashioned House We dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode Until we drive away. How fair on looking back, the Day We sauntered from the Door — Unconscious our returning,... Poet:	Go not too near a House of Rose — Go not too near a House of Rose — The depredation of a Breeze — Or inundation of a Dew Alarms its walls away — Nor try to tie the Butterfly, Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy, In insecurity to lie ... Poet:
The House on the Hill They are all gone away, The House is shut and still, There is nothing more to say. Through broken walls and gray The winds blow bleak and shrill: They are all gone away. ... Poet:	I was the slightest in the House — I was the slightest in the House — I took the smallest Room — At night, my little Lamp, and Book — And one Geranium — So stationed I could catch the Mint That never ceased to fall — And just my... Poet:	No man saw awe, nor to his house No man saw awe, nor to his house Admitted he a man Though by his awful residence Has human nature been. Not deeming of his dread abode Till laboring to flee A grasp on comprehension laid ... Poet:	Terror in the house does roar *** * *** Terror in the house does roar But Pity stands before the door Poet:
The Lonely House A pair of spectacles afar just stir — An almanac 's aware. Was it the mat winked, Or a nervous star ? The moon slides down the stair To see who 's there. There 's plunder, — where ? ... Poet:	The way Hope builds his House The way Hope builds his House It is not with a sill — Nor Rafter — has that Edifice But only Pinnacle — Abode in as supreme This superficies As if it were of Ledges smit Or mortised with... Poet: