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Poems

A Prayer For My Daughter by William Butler Yeats

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle But Gregory’s wood and one bare hill Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind. Bred on the Atlantic, can

elysiancry July 18, 2020 Poems, Thoughts No Comments Read more

When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved

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Happy the Lab’rer by Jane Austen

Happy the lab’rer in his Sunday clothes! In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn’d hose, Andhat upon his head, to church he goes; As oft, with conscious pride, he downward throws A glance upon the ample cabbage rose That, stuck in

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Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun. by Walt Whitman

1 GIVE me the splendid silent sun, with all his beams full-dazzling; Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard; Give me a field where the unmow’d grass grows; Give me an arbor, give me the trellis’d

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His Confidence by William Butler Yeats

Undying love to buy I wrote upon The corners of this eye All wrongs done. What payment were enough For undying love? I broke my heart in two So hard I struck. What matter? for I know That out of

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Mock Panegyric on a Young Friend by Jane Austen

In measured verse I’ll now rehearse The charms of lovely Anna: And, first, her mind is unconfined Like any vast savannah. Ontario’s lake may fitly speak Her fancy’s ample bound: Its circuit may, on strict survey Five hundred miles be

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A Dialogue Of Self And Soul by William Butler Yeats

My Soul. I summon to the winding ancient stair; Set all your mind upon the steep ascent, Upon the broken, crumbling battlement, Upon the breathless starlit air, “Upon the star that marks the hidden pole; Fix every wandering thought upon

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To The Men Of England by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? Wherefore feed and clothe and save, From the cradle to the grave, Those ungrateful drones who

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Unnamed Lands. by Walt Whitman

NATIONS ten thousand years before These States, and many times ten thousand years before These States; Garner’d clusters of ages, that men and women like us grew up and travel’d their course, and pass’d on; What vast-built cities—what orderly republics—what

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The City In The Sea by Edgar Allan Poe

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne In a strange city lying alone Far down within the dim West, Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best Have gone to their eternal rest. There shrines and

elysiancry July 18, 2020 Poems, Thoughts No Comments Read more
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