Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

À Henry Murger Comme l’autre Ophélie, Dont la douce folie S’endort en murmurant Dans le torrent, Pâle, déchevelée Et dans l’onde étoilée Éparpillant encor Ses tresses d’or, Et comme... Poet: Théodore de Banville	Les Fleurs boréales/À Henry W. Longfellow Un soir, tu t’envolas comme l’oiseau de mer Dont le coup d’aile altier nargue le gouffre amer : Et moi, debout sur la colline, Murmurant à la brise un chant d’Hiawatha, Longtemps je regardai le flot qui t’emporta, O doux chantre d’Evangeline ! Comme... Poet: Louis Fréchette	On a Boy's First Reading of "King Henry V" When youth was lord of my unchallenged fate, And time seemed but the vassal of my will, I entertainëd certain guests of state— The great of older days, who, faithful still, Have kept with me the pact my youth had made. And I remember how one galleon rare... Poet: Silas Weir Mitchell	Henry Ward Beecher His tongue was touched with sacred fire, He could not rest, he must speak out, When Liberty lay stabbed, and doubt Stalked through the night in vestments dire,— When slaves uplifted manacled hands, Praying in agony and despair, And answer... Poet: Charles Henry Phelps
J - B. by Henry Cuyler Bunner The actor’s dead, and memory alone Recalls the genial magic of his tone; Marble nor canvas nor the printed page Shall tell his genius to another age: A memory, doomed to dwindle less and less, His world-wide fame shrinks to this littleness. Yet if... Poet:	To Henry Wadsworth Longfellow On His Birthday, 27th February, 1867 I NEED not praise the sweetness of his song, Where limpid verse to limpid verse succeeds Smooth as our Charles, when, fearing lest he wrong The new moon’s mirrored skiff, he slides along, Full without noise, and... Poet: James Russell Lowell	Henry Ward Beecher His tongue was touched with sacred fire, He could not rest, he must speak out, When Liberty lay stabbed, and doubt Stalked through the night in vestments dire,— When slaves uplifted manacled hands, Praying in agony and despair, And answer... Poet: Charles Henry Phelps	Du Roy Henry au commencement de son regne J'estois assis au meilleu des neuf seurs, Libre et distraict des pensees mortelles, Si commencea à chanter l'une d'elles, Chant qui m'emplit d'infinies doulceurs : Assemblez vous (dict elle) ô proffesseurs Des bonnes ars et des sciences belles, Pour... Poet: Mellin de Saint-Gelais