Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

Who Ever Loved, That Loved Not at First Sight? It lies not in our power to love or hate, For will in us is overruled by fate. When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man... Poet: Christopher Marlowe	First Love I ne'er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale, a deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked what could I ail My life... Poet: John Clare	The First Snow-Fall The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm-tree ... Poet: James Russell Lowell	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
On Reading a Poet's First Book This is a breath of summer wind That comes—we know not how—that goes As softly,—leaving us behind, Pleased with a smell of vine and rose. Poet, shall this be all thy word? Blow on us with a bolder breeze, Until we rise, as having heard... Poet: Henry Cuyler Bunner	The First Song A poet writ a song of May That checked his breath awhile; He kept it for a summer day, Then spake with half a smile: “Oh, little song of purity, Of mystic to-and-fro, You are so much a part of me I dare not let you go.” ... Poet: Richard Burton	On First Entering Westminster Abbey Holy of England! since my light is short And faint, O rather by the sun anew Of timeless passion set my dial true, That with thy saints and thee I may consort, And, wafted in the cool, enshadowed port Of poets, seem a little sail long due, And be... Poet: Louise Imogen Guiney	The First Step My little one begins his feet to try, A tottering, feeble, inconsistent way; Pleased with the effort, he forgets his play, And leaves his infant baubles where they lie. Laughing and proud his mother flutters nigh, Turning to go, yet joy-compelled to stay,... Poet: Andrew Bice Saxton
The First Rose of Summer “oh dear! is Summer over?” I heard a rosebud moan, When first her eyes she opened, And found she was alone. “Oh, why did Summer leave me, Little me, belated? Where are the other roses? I think they might have waited.” ... Poet: Oliver Herford	“Max and Maurice”: Trick First Translated by Charles Timothy Brooks TO most people who have leisure Raising poultry gives great pleasure; First, because the eggs they lay us For the care we take repay us; Secondly, that now and then We can dine on roasted hen; Thirdly,... Poet: Wilhelm Busch