Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

The Green Isle of Lovers They say that, afar in the land of the west, Where the bright golden sun sinks in glory to rest, Mid ferns where the hunter ne’er ventured to tread, A fair lake unruffled and sparkling is spread; Where, lost in his course, the rapt Indian discovers, In... Poet: Robert Charles Sands	What Though the Green Leaf Grow? What though the green leaf grow? ’T will last a month and day; In all sweet flowers that blow Lurks Death, his slave Decay. But if my lady smile There is no Death at all; The world is fair the while,— What though the red leaf fall... Poet: Maybury Fleming	The Little Knight in Green What fragrant-footed comer Is stepping o’er my head? Behold, my queen! the Summer! Who deems her warriors dead. Now rise, ye knights of many fights, From out your sleep profound! Make sharp your spears, my gallant peers, And prick... Poet: Katharine Lee Bates	“The green grass under the snow” The Work of the sun is slow, But as sure as heaven, we know; So we ’ll not forget, When the skies are wet, There ’s green grass under the snow. When the winds of winter blow, Wailing like voices of woe, There are April showers... Poet: Annie A. Preston
The Ivy Green O, A DAINTY plant is the ivy green, That creepeth o’er ruins old! Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold. The walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed, To pleasure his dainty whim; And the mouldering dust... Poet: Charles Dickens	The Wearing of the Green O PADDY 1 dear, an’ did you hear the news that ’s goin’ round? The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground; St. Patrick’s Day no more we ’ll keep; his colors can’t be seen: For there ’s a cruel law agin’ the wearin’ of the green. I met with Napper Tandy... Poet: Anonymous	Green Voici des fruits, des fleurs, des feuilles et des branches Et puis voici mon coeur qui ne bat que pour vous. Ne le déchirez pas avec vos deux mains blanches Et qu'à vos yeux si beaux l'humble présent soit doux. J'arrive tout couvert encore de rosée Que le vent du... Poet: Paul Verlaine	The Color of the Grave is Green — The Color of the Grave is Green — The Outer Grave — I mean — You would not know it from the Field — Except it own a Stone — To help the fond — to find it — Too infinite asleep To stop and tell them... Poet:
There was a young person in green * * * There was a young person in green, Who seldom was fit to be seen; She wore a long shawl, Over bonnet and all, Which enveloped that person in green. <Publ.... Poet:	When the voices of children are heard on the green * * * When the voices of children are heard on the green, And whisperings are in the dale, The [desires del.] days of my youth rise fresh in my mind, My face turns green & pale. ... Poet: