Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

Any Where Out of the World La vida es un hospital en el que cada enfermo está poseído por el deseo de cambiar de cama. Éste querría padecer junto a la estufa y aquél cree que se curaría frente a la ventana. A mí me parece que estaría bien allí donde no estoy, y esa idea de mudanza es una de las que discuto sin... Poet: Charles Baudelaire	Where Hudson's Wave Where hudson’s wave o’er silvery sands Winds through the hills afar, Old Cronest like a monarch stands, Crowned with a single star! And there, amid the billowy swells Of rock-ribbed, cloud-capped earth, My fair and gentle Ida dwells,... Poet: George Pope Morris	Where Helen Sits Where helen sits, the darkness is so deep, No golden sunbeam strikes athwart the gloom; No mother’s smile, no glance of loving eyes, Lightens the shadow of that lonely room. Yet the clear whiteness of her radiant soul Decks the dim walls, like... Poet: Laura Elizabeth Richards	The Garden Where There Is No Winter “se dio ti lasci, lettor, prender frutto Di tua lezione.” Poet: Louis James Block
Where Helen Comes Where Helen comes, as falls the dew, Where Helen comes Peace cometh too! From out the golden, western lands, White lilies blooming in her lands, A light of beauty in her face, She passeth on with nameless grace. Before her fly the shades of life—... Poet: John Jerome Rooney	Song: “Ask me no more where Jove bestows” Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep, These flowers, as in their causes, sleep. Ask me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day; For in pure love heaven did prepare... Poet: Thomas Carew	“Where are you going, my pretty maid?” “where are you going, my pretty maid?” “I am going a-milking, sir,” she said. “May I go with you, my pretty maid?” “You ’re kindly welcome, sir,” she said. “What is your father, my pretty maid?” “My father ’s a farmer, sir,” she said. “What is your... Poet: Anonymous	“Oh! where do fairies hide their heads?” Oh! where do fairies hide their heads, When snow lies on the hills, When frost has spoiled their mossy beds, And crystallized their rills? Beneath the moon they cannot trip In circles o’er the plain; And draughts of dew they cannot sip,... Poet: Thomas Haynes Bayley
“Where lies the land?” Where lies the land to which the ship would go? Far, far ahead, is all her seamen know. And where the land she travels from? Away, Far, far behind, is all that they can say. On sunny noons upon the deck’s smooth face, Linked arm in arm, how pleasant here... Poet: Arthur Hugh Clough	The Place where Man should Die How little recks it where men lie, When once the moment’s past In which the dim and glazing eye Has looked on earth its last,— Whether beneath the sculptured urn The coffined form shall rest, Or in its nakedness return Back to its... Poet: Michael Joseph Barry