The Revenge: A Ballad of the Fleet, by Alfred Tennyson
At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville l...
Dog Poems
Epilogue, by D. H. Lawrence
PATIENCE, little Heart.
One day a heavy, Jun...
The Cardinal and the Dog, by Robert Browning
CRESCENZIO, the Pope's Legate at the High Coun...
Tray, by Robert Browning
Sing me a hero! Quench my thirst
Of soul, ye ...
Fool's Money Bags, by Amy Lowell
Outside the long window,
With his head on the...
The Hammers, by Amy Lowell
I Frindsbury, Kent, 1786 Bang!
Bang!
Tap!...
Reaping, by Amy Lowell
You want to know what's the matter with me, do...
Roads, by Amy Lowell
I know a country laced with roads,
They join ...
A Tale of Villafranca, by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I My little son, my Florentine,
Sit down be...
The Blind Highland Boy, by William Wordsworth
Now we are tired of boisterous joy,
Have romp...
An Evening Walk, by William Wordsworth
Far from my dearest Friend, 'tis mine to rove
...
Fidelity, by William Wordsworth
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as ...
Guilt and Sorrow; or, Incidents Upon Salisbury Plain, by William Wordsworth
I A traveller on the skirt of Sarum's Plain
...
Incident Characteristic of a Favourite Dog, by William Wordsworth
On his morning rounds the Master
Goes to learn...
It Was an April Morning: Fresh and Clear, by William Wordsworth
It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The R...
Michael, by William Wordsworth
A Pastoral Poem If from the public way you tur...
Tiriel, by William Blake
1 And Aged Tiriel. Stood before the Gates of ...
Visions of the Daughters of Albion, by William Blake
The Argument I lovè d Theotormon,
An...
Nero, by Clark Ashton Smith
This Rome, that was the toil of many men,
Th...
finally got a real job, by Ray Heinrich
Living a bit west of washington d.c.
has nothi...
Georgic II, by Virgil
Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heave...
Georgic III, by Virgil
Thee too, great Pales, will I hymn, and thee...
Georgic IV, by Virgil
Of air-born honey, gift of heaven, I now
Tak...
The Cricket's Song, by Francis Jammes
LAST night the cricket sang when all was still....
The Dead Child, by Francis Jammes
A small house with a dog in front..
O my love!...