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Major Henry Livingston, Jr. · Collected poems · 22 lines

Believe me, dear patrons, I have wand'red too far, Without any compass, or planet or star; My dear native village I scarcely can see So I'll hie to my hive like the tempest-tost bee. Hail home! sacred home! to my soul ever dear;

Katherine Philips · Collected poems · 22 lines

Soule of my soule! my Joy, my crown, my friend! A name which all the rest doth comprehend; How happy are we now, whose sols are grown, By an incomparable mixture, One: Whose well acquainted minds are not as neare

Algernon Charles Swinburne · Collected poems · 29 lines

I hid my heart in a nest of roses, Out of the sun's way, hidden apart; In a softer bed then the soft white snow's is, Under the roses I hid my heart. Why would it sleep not? why should it start,

Sidney Lanier · Collected poems · 16 lines

Into the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him,

Sir John Suckling · Collected poems · 132 lines

I tell thee, Dick, where I have been, Where I the rarest things have seen, O, things without compare! Such sights again cannot be found In any place on English ground,

Christina Rossetti · Victorian · 24 lines

I have no wit, no words, no tears; My heart within me like a stone Is numbed too much for hopes or fears. Look right, look left, I dwell alone; I lift mine eyes, but dimmed with grief

Helen Hunt Jackson · Collected poems · 15 lines

O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire, What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn Of death! Far sooner in midsummer tire The streams than under ice. June could not hire

Matsuo Basho · Edo haiku · 3 lines

A cloud of flowers! Is the bell Uyeno Or Asakusa?

Elizabeth Barrett Browning · Victorian · 32 lines

O Rose! who dares to name thee? No longer roseate now, nor soft, nor sweet; But pale, and hard, and dry, as stubble-wheat,--- Kept seven years in a drawer---thy titles shame thee. The breeze that used to blow thee

William Topaz McGonagall · Collected poems · 29 lines

Beautiful silvery Tay, With your landscapes, so lovely and gay, Along each side of your waters, to Perth all the way; No other river in the world has got scenery more fine, Only I am told the beautiful Rhine,

Robert Herrick · Collected poems · 24 lines

My dearest Love, since thou wilt go, And leave me here behind thee; For love or pity, let me know The place where I may find thee. AMARIL. In country meadows, pearl'd with dew,

Charles Kingsley · Collected poems · 10 lines

I My fairest child, I have no song to give you; No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey: Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you For every day.

Coventry Patmore · Collected poems · 25 lines

With all my will, but much against my heart, We two now part. My Very Dear, Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear. It needs no art,

Sir Walter Raleigh · Renaissance · 30 lines

Farewell, false love, the oracle of lies, A mortal foe and enemy to rest, An envious boy, from whom all cares arise, A bastard vile, a beast with rage possessed, A way of error, a temple full of treason,

Ben Jonson · Renaissance · 36 lines

FALSE world, good night! since thou hast brought That hour upon my morn of age; Henceforth I quit thee from my thought, My part is ended on thy stage. Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear

Lewis Carroll · Collected poems · 18 lines

Five little girls, of Five, Four, Three, Two, One: Rolling on the hearthrug, full of tricks and fun. Five rosy girls, in years from Ten to Six: Sitting down to lessons - no more time for tricks. Five growing girls, from Fifteen to Eleven:

Thomas Chatterton · Collected poems · 42 lines

Almighty Framer of the Skies! O let our pure devotion rise, Like Incense in thy Sight! Wrapt in impenetrable Shade The Texture of our Souls were made

Richard Crashaw · Collected poems · 140 lines

LOVE, thou are absolute, sole Lord Of life and death. To prove the word, We'll now appeal to none of all Those thy old soldiers, great and tall, Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down

John Wilmot · Collected poems · 266 lines

Chloe, In verse by your command I write. Shortly you'll bid me ride astride, and fight: These talents better with our sex agree Than lofty flights of dangerous poetry.

Charles Sorley · Collected poems · 97 lines

I have not brought my Odyssey With me here across the sea; But you'll remember, when I say How, when they went down Sparta way, To sandy Sparta, long ere dawn