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

The Evening Wind Spirit that breathest through my lattice: thou That cool’st the twilight of the sultry day! Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow; Thou hast been out upon the deep at play, Riding all day the wild blue waves till now, Roughening their crests,... Poet: William Cullen Bryant	Evening in Paradise From “Paradise Lost,” Book IV. NOW came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;... Poet: John Milton	Evening From “Don Juan” AVE MARIA! o’er the earth and sea, That heavenliest hour of heaven is worthiest thee! Ave Maria! blessèd be the hour, The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o’er the earth... Poet: Lord Byron	“Those evening bells” Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth, and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime! Those joyous hours are passed away; And many a heart that then was gay Within the tomb now... Poet: Thomas Moore
The Evening Cloud A Cloud lay cradled near the setting sun, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow; Long had I watched the glory moving on O’er the still radiance of the lake below. Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow! Even in its very motion there was... Poet: John Wilson	An Evening in Dandaloo It was while we held our races -- Hurdles, sprints and steplechases -- Up in Dandaloo, That a crowd of Sydney stealers, Jockeys, pugilists and spielers Brought some horses, real heelers, Came and put us... Poet:	Poems (Botta)/Evening hymn On the swift flying hours Another bright day, With its tears and its smiles, Has vanished away. Thou who dost number Our days as they flee, ... Poet:	The Task (Cowper)/Book IV ─ The Winter Evening Hark! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright; — He comes, the herald of a noisy world, ... Poet: