Goat Poems

Goat Poems

Witches Chant (From Macbeth) , by William Shakespeare

Round about the couldron go:
In the poisones e...

Gerontion, by T. S. Eliot

Thou hast nor youth nor age
But as it were an ...

Locksley Hall, by Alfred Tennyson

Comrades, leave me here a little, while as ye...

Merlin and Vivien, by Alfred Tennyson

A storm was coming, but the winds were still, ...

Pheidippides, by Robert Browning

Χ α ί ρ ε τ &eps...

The Garden God's Threat, by Catullus

Form'd from the season'd poplar's heart
By the...

Funeral Song for the Indian Chief Blackbird, by Amy Lowell

BURIED SITTING UPRIGHT ON A LIVE HORSE ON A BLU...

The Great Adventure of Max Breuck, by Amy Lowell

1 A yellow band of light upon the street
Pour...

An Epithalamium, by Sappho

Fragments 91, 92, 99, 106, 104, 103, 100,...

The Wizard Way, by Aleister Crowley

VELVET soft the night-star glowed
Over the un...

Fiesole Idyl, by Walter Savage Landor

Here, where precipitate Spring, with one ligh...

Georgic II, by Virgil

Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heave...

The Black Goat, by Albert Samain

THE Black Goat passes, looking for his bitches...

The Best and Worst Nail in the Ark, by Arthur Guiterman

Now this is the story (and all of ye hark!)
Of...

The Death of Lycus, by Callimachus

Not on the land could Lycus die,
Nor in his n...

Hymn to Diana, by Callimachus

Tho' great Apollo claim the poet's lyre,
Yet ...

Hymn to Jupiter, by Callimachus

Whilst we to Jove immortal and divine,
Perfor...

The Flight, by Charles G. D. Roberts

She rose in the night and fled;
Such a night ...

The Permian Beds of Texas, by Charles Hazelius Sternberg

In Texas, where the Wichita
Enrodes a gash, ...

Pan in Wall Street, by Edmund Clarence Stedman

Just where the Treasury's marble front
Looks o...

Chorus of Satyrs, Driving Their Goats, by Euripides

Chorus from The Cyclops Where has he of race d...

Bellerophon, by Henry Abbey

There lives a creature of a dreamer's brain,
...

To a Child, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Dear child! How radiant on thy mother's knee,
...

The Prisoner of Chillon, by Lord Byron

My hair is grey, but not with years,
Nor gre...

Eunica; or, The Herdsman, by Moschus

When lately I offer'd Eunica to kiss,
She fle...