Lines, by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
How lovely is the heaven of this night,
How d...
Animal Poems
At the Mid Hour of Night, by Thomas Moore
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weepi...
On the Bayou, by Thomasena Martin-Johnson
Fishing on the bayou
with a cane pole,
cat...
Highlands, by Tony Turner
I'm saying goodbye to it all
for a month. I'm ...
The Yarn of the Nancy Bell, by W. S. Gilbert
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From ...
Civilized Sacrifice, by Walter Bargen
From Remedies for Vertigo I have climbed the b...
The Falls of the Passaic, by Washington Irving
In a wild, tranquil vale, fringed with forest...
Birds of Spring, by Watie W. Swanzy
Trooping o'er the meadows,
Chatter, chatter,...
The Blessed Book, by Watie W. Swanzy
Oh, this blessed Book of Thine!
In each word ...
Colosseum, Rome, by Watie W. Swanzy
Mids all the ruins Rome can boast, --
And they...
Come to Christ, by Watie W. Swanzy
Oh, come, thou weary soul, to Christ,
And ...
Evening, by Watie W. Swanzy
After the turmoil and heat of the day,
Comes ...
Florence, Italy, by Watie W. Swanzy
Oh, well I love thee, Florence! All thy tower...
God of Mercy, by Watie W. Swanzy
God of mercy hear me now!
Place thy seal upon ...
March, by Watie W. Swanzy
March, wild March, with her wind-blown locks,...
The Mississippi, by Watie W. Swanzy
Majestic river! In thy onward course,
Like th...
October, by Watie W. Swanzy
Sun that sheds rich mellow beams;
Misty hills...
O Heavenly Father!, by Watie W. Swanzy
O heavenly Father, God of love!
We raise our ...
Pompeii, by Watie W. Swanzy
I The sunset's changing glory bright
Shone fu...
Raindrops, by Watie W. Swanzy
Hear the softly falling rain
Lightly patter on...
To ----, by Watie W. Swanzy
Death camest down with dark, cold hand,
And ...
The Triumph of Christ, by Watie W. Swanzy
I Hell's gates together swung with awful clang...
When the Shades of Eve, by Watie W. Swanzy
When the shades of eve are falling
O'er the ea...
Anthem For Doomed Youth, by Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?...
Greater Love, by Wilfred Owen
Red lips are not so red
As the stained stones...