Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

In Three Days So, I shall see her in three days And just one night, but nights are short, Then two long hours, and that is morn. See how I come, unchanged, unworn! Feel, where my life broke off from thine, How fresh the splinters keep and fine--- Only a touch and we... Poet: Robert Browning	“Three years she grew” Three years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, “A lovelier flower On earth was never sown: This child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. “Myself will to my darling be Both law and... Poet: William Wordsworth	The Three Little Kittens (a Cat’s Tale, with Additions) THREE little kittens lost their mittens; And they began to cry, O mother dear, We very much fear That we have lost our mittens. Lost your mittens! You naughty kittens!... Poet: Eliza Lee Follen	The Three Children Three children sliding on the ice Upon a summer’s day, As it fell out they all fell in, The rest they ran away. Now, had these children been at home, Or sliding on dry ground, Ten thousand pounds to one penny They had not all been... Poet: Anonymous
Three Loves There were three maidens who loved a king; They sat together beside the sea; One cried, “I love him, and I would die If but for one day he might love me!” The second whispered, “And I would die To gladden his life, or make him great.” The... Poet: Lucy Hamilton Jones Hooper	Seven times Three Love I Leaned out of window, I smelt the white clover, Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate; “Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one lover— Hush, nightingale, hush! O sweet nightingale, wait Till I listen and hear ... Poet: Jean Ingelow	Give Me Three Grains of Corn, Mother The Irish Famine GIVE me three grains of corn, mother,— Only three grains of corn; It will keep the little life I have Till the coming of the morn. I am dying of hunger and cold, mother,— Dying of hunger and cold; And half the agony of... Poet: Amanda M. Edmond	The Three Enemies The Flesh “sweet, thou art pale.” “More pale to see, Christ hung upon the cruel tree And bore his Father’s wrath for me.” “Sweet, thou art sad.” “Beneath a rod More heavy Christ for my sake trod... Poet: Christina Georgina Rossetti
Three Days So much to do: so little done! Ah! yesternight I saw the sun Sink beamless down the vaulted gray,— The ghastly ghost of YESTERDAY. So little done: so much to do! Each morning breaks on conflicts new; But eager, brave, I ’ll join the fray,... Poet: James Roberts Gilmore	The Three Warnings The Tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground; ’T was therefore said by ancient sages, That love of life increased with years So much, that in our latter stages, When pains grow sharp and sickness rages, The greatest... Poet: Hester Lynch Thrale