Ode to Pity

Related poetry:

1. Sonnet 06 (to a brook near the village of Corston.) As thus I bend me o’er thy babbling stream And watch thy current, Memory’s hand pourtrays The faint form’d scenes of the departed days, Like the far forest by the moon’s pale beam Dimly descried yet lovely. I have worn Upon thy banks the live-long hour away, […]...
2. Written On Sunday Morning Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! I to the Woodlands wend, and there In lovely Nature see the GOD OF LOVE. The swelling organ’s peal Wakes not my soul to zeal, Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove. The gorgeous altar and the mystic vest Rouse not such ardor in my breast, […]...
3. The Pity Of Love A pity beyond all telling Is hid in the heart of love: The folk who are buying and selling, The clouds on their journey above, The cold wet winds ever blowing, And the shadowy hazel grove Where mouse-grey waters are flowing, Threaten the head that I love....
4. Sonnet 09 Fair is the rising morn when o’er the sky The orient sun expands his roseate ray, And lovely to the Bard’s enthusiast eye Fades the meek radiance of departing day; But fairer is the smile of one we love, Than all the scenes in Nature’s ample sway. And sweeter than the music of the grove, […]...
5. My Own Heart Let Me Have More Have Pity On; Let My own heart let me have more have pity on; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet. I cast for comfort I can no more get By groping round my comfortless, than blind Eyes in their dark can day or thirst […]...
6. To Byron Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody! Attuning still the soul to tenderness, As if soft Pity, with unusual stress, Had touch’d her plaintive lute, and thou, being by, Hadst caught the tones, nor suffer’d them to die. O’ershadowing sorrow doth not make thee less Delightful: thou thy griefs dost dress With a bright halo, shining […]...
7. Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth th' impression fill Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow; For what care I who calls me well or ill, So you o’ergreen my bad, my good allow? You are my all the world, and I must strive To know my shames and praises from your tongue; None else to […]...
8. The Pity Of It I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar From rail-track and from highway, and I heard In field and farmstead many an ancient word Of local lineage like “Thu bist,” “Er war,” “Ich woll,” “Er sholl,” and by-talk similar, Nigh as they speak who in this month’s moon gird At England’s very loins, thereunto spurred By […]...
9. Pity Me Not Because The Light Of Day Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man’s […]...
10. The Poplar Why do you always stand there shivering Between the white stream and the road? The people pass through the dust On bicycles, in carts, in motor-cars; The waggoners go by at down; The lovers walk on the grass path at night. Stir from your roots, walk, poplar! You are more beautiful than they are. I […]...
11. Mary, Pity Women! You call yourself a man, For all you used to swear, An’ Leave me, as you can, My certain shame to bear? I’ear! You do not care You done the worst you know. I ‘ate you, grinnin’ there…. Ah, Gawd, I love you so! Nice while it lasted, an’ now it is over Tear out […]...
12. The Spirit of Air Coral and clear emerald, And amber from the sea, Lilac-coloured amethyst, Chalcedony; The lovely Spirit of Air Floats on a cloud and doth ride, Clad in the beauties of earth Like a bride. So doth she haunt me; and words Tell but a tithe of the tale. Sings all the sweetness of Spring Even in […]...
13. Song (She Sat And Sang Alway) She sat and sang alway By the green margin of a stream, Watching the fishes leap and play Beneath the glad sunbeam. I sat and wept alway Beneath the moon’s most shadowy beam, Watching the blossoms of the May Weep leaves into the stream. I wept for memory; She sang for hope that is so […]...
14. Sonnets 03: Not With Libations, But With Shouts And Laughter Not with libations, but with shouts and laughter We drenched the altars of Love’s sacred grove, Shaking to earth green fruits, impatient after The launching of the colored moths of Love. Love’s proper myrtle and his mother’s zone We bound about our irreligious brows, And fettered him with garlands of our own, And spread a […]...
15. A fuzzy fellow, without feet A fuzzy fellow, without feet, Yet doth exceeding run! Of velvet, is his Countenance, And his Complexion, dun! Sometime, he dwelleth in the grass! Sometime, upon a bough, From which he doth descend in plush Upon the Passer-by! All this in summer. But when winds alarm the Forest Folk, He taketh Damask Residence And struts […]...
16. To Charlotte Cushman Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam Into the slumb’rous tissue of some stream, Till his bright self o’er his bright copy seem Fulfillment dropping on a come-true dream; So in this night of art thy soul doth show Her excellent double in the steadfast flow Of wishing love that through men’s hearts […]...
17. Evening Star ‘Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro’ the light Of the brighter, cold moon, ‘Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold – too cold for me- There pass’d, as a shroud, […]...
18. PRESERVATION My maiden she proved false to me; To hate all joys I soon began, Then to a flowing stream I ran, The stream ran past me hastily. There stood I fix’d, in mute despair; My head swam round as in a dream; I well-nigh fell into the stream, And earth seem’d with me whirling there. […]...
19. Roads Go Ever On Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon. Roads go ever ever on, Under cloud and […]...
20. FAREWELL FROST, OR WELCOME SPRING Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear Reclothed in fresh and verdant diaper; Thaw’d are the snows; and now the lusty Spring Gives to each mead a neat enamelling; The palms put forth their gems, and every tree Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry. The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings With warbling […]...
21. To G. M. W. And G. F. W Whenas-(I love that “whenas” word- It shows I am a poet, too,) Q. Horace Flaccus gaily stirred The welkin with his tra-la-loo, He little thought one donkey’s back Would carry thus a double load- Father and son upon one jack, Galumphing down the Tibur Road. II Old is the tale-Aesop’s, I think- Of that famed […]...
22. The Spanish Needle Lovely dainty Spanish needle With your yellow flower and white, Dew bedecked and softly sleeping, Do you think of me to-night? Shadowed by the spreading mango, Nodding o’er the rippling stream, Tell me, dear plant of my childhood, Do you of the exile dream? Do you see me by the brook’s side Catching crayfish ‘neath […]...
23. Full Moon One night as Dick lay half asleep, Into his drowsy eyes A great still light began to creep From out the silent skies. It was the lovely moon’s, for when He raised his dreamy head, Her surge of silver filled the pane And streamed across his bed. So, for a while, each gazed at each […]...
24. Inscription 08 – For The Cenotaph At Ermenonville STRANGER! the MAN OF NATURE lies not here: Enshrin’d far distant by his rival’s side His relics rest, there by the giddy throng With blind idolatry alike revered! Wiselier directed have thy pilgrim feet Explor’d the scenes of Ermenonville. ROUSSEAU Loved these calm haunts of Solitude and Peace; Here he has heard the murmurs of […]...
25. White in the Moon the Long Road Lies White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers […]...
26. Loch Ness Beautiful Loch Ness, The truth to express, Your landscapes are lovely and gay, Along each side of your waters, to Fort Augustus all the way, Your scenery is romantic… With rocks and hills gigantic… Enough to make one frantic, As they view thy beautiful heathery hills, And their clear crystal rills, And the beautiful woodlands […]...
27. THE EAGLE AND DOVE IN search of prey once raised his pinions An eaglet; A huntsman’s arrow came, and reft His right wing of all motive power. Headlong he fell into a myrtle grove, For three long days on anguish fed, In torment writhed Throughout three long, three weary nights; And then was cured, Thanks to all-healing Nature’s Soft, […]...
28. The Sea Took Pity The sea took pity: it interposed with doom: ‘I have tall daughters dear that heed my hand: Let Winter wed one, sow them in her womb, And she shall child them on the New-world strand.’ . . . . . . . ....
29. Pity THE TWINKLING mists of green and gold Afloat in the abyss of air, From out the window high and old We watched together there. The monstrous fabric of the town Lay black below; the cries of pain Came to our ears from up and down The dimly-lighted lane. Olive, your eyes were turned to me, […]...
30. A Valediction: Of Weeping Let me pour forth My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here, For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear, And by this mintage they are something worth, For thus they be Pregnant of thee; Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more; When a tear falls that, thou falls which […]...
31. The Pity of the Leaves Vengeful across the cold November moors, Loud with ancestral shame there came the bleak Sad wind that shrieked, and answered with a shriek, Reverberant through lonely corridors. The old man heard it; and he heard, perforce, Words out of lips that were no more to speak – Words of the past that shook the old […]...
32. IV. To the River Wenbeck AS slowly wanders thy forsaken stream, Wenbeck! the mossy-scatter’d rocks among, In fancy’s ear still making plaintive song To the dark woods above: ah! sure I seem To meet some friendly Genius in the gloom, And in each breeze a pitying voice I hear Like sorrow’s sighs upon misfortune’s tomb. Ah! soothing are your quiet […]...
33. As far from pity, as complaint As far from pity, as complaint As cool to speech as stone As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone As far from time as History As near yourself Today As Children, to the Rainbow’s scarf Or Sunset’s Yellow play To eyelids in the Sepulchre How dumb the Dancer lies While Color’s Revelations […]...
34. A Pity, We Were Such A Good Invention They amputated Your thighs off my hips. As far as I’m concerned They are all surgeons. All of them. They dismantled us Each from the other. As far as I’m concerned They are all engineers. All of them. A pity. We were such a good And loving invention. An aeroplane made from a man and […]...
35. The Seekers FRIENDS and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode, But the hope of the City of God at the other end of the road. Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind, For we go seeking a city that we shall never find. There is no solace on earth for […]...
36. Care-charming Sleep Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet, And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain, Like hollow […]...
37. Sonnet LXXIX Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious numbers are decay’d And my sick Muse doth give another place. I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs […]...
38. Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious numbers are decayed, And my sick Muse doth give an other place. I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He […]...
39. 'Tis easier to pity those when dead ‘Tis easier to pity those when dead That which pity previous Would have saved A Tragedy enacted Secures Applause That Tragedy enacting Too seldom does....
40. I cried at Pity not at Pain I cried at Pity not at Pain I heard a Woman say “Poor Child” and something in her voice Convicted me of me So long I fainted, to myself It seemed the common way, And Health, and Laughter, Curious things To look at, like a Toy To sometimes hear “Rich people” buy And see the […]...