Lines On A Young Lady's Photograph Album

Related poetry:

1. Love's Young Dream Oh! the days are gone, when Beauty bright My heart’s chain wove; When my dream of life, from morn till night, Was love, still love. New hope may bloom, And days may come, Of milder calmer beam, But there’s nothing half so sweet in life As love’s young dream: No, there’s nothing half so sweet […]...
2. FROM AN ALBUM OF 1604 HOPE provides wings to thought, and love to hope. Rise up to Cynthia, love, when night is clearest, And say, that as on high her figure changeth, So, upon earth, my joy decays and grows. And whisper in her ear with modest softness, How doubt oft hung its head, and truth oft wept. And oh […]...
3. Young Munro the Sailor ‘Twas on a sunny morning in the month of May, I met a pretty damsel on the banks o’ the Tay; I said, My charming fair one, come tell to me I pray, Why do you walk alone on the banks o’ the Tay. She said, Kind sir, pity me, for I am in great […]...
4. Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill And thou wert sad-yet I was not with thee! And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near; Methought that joy and health alone could be Where I was not-and pain and sorrow here. And is it thus?-it is as I foretold, And shall be more so; for the mind recoils Upon itself, and […]...
5. I wrote a life this might be the swan song I have traveled beyond misty mountains Spilled my seed on the hungry rock Hallowed days Blasphemous timelines Art nourishment Prolific like sin To the serpent edge of youth Once my head rolled in the streets Motors crashing by Inches from my intoxication A fleshful laugh echoed in time A […]...
6. Past Carin&#039 Now up and down the siding brown The great black crows are flyin’, And down below the spur, I know, Another ‘milker’s’ dyin’; The crops have withered from the ground, The tank’s clay bed is glarin’, But from my heart no tear nor sound, For I have gone past carin’ Past worryin’ or carin’, Past […]...
7. This Is A Photograph Of Me It was taken some time ago. At first it seems to be A smeared Print: blurred lines and grey flecks Blended with the paper; Then, as you scan It, you see in the left-hand corner A thing that is like a branch: part of a tree (balsam or spruce) emerging And, to the right, halfway […]...
8. Album My father is dead. I who am look at him Who is not, as once he Went looking for me In the woman who was. There are pictures Of the two of them, no Need of a third, hand In hand, hearts willing To be one but not three. What does it mean Life? I […]...
9. Lines Written Beneath An Elm In The Churchyard Of Harrow Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh, Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky; Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod, With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod; With those who, scattered far, perchance deplore, Like me, the happy scenes they knew before: Oh! as I trace again […]...
10. A Life-Lesson There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your doll, I know; And your tea-set blue, And your play-house, too, Are things of the long ago; But childish troubles will soon pass by. There! little girl; don’t cry! There! little girl; don’t cry! They have broken your slate, I know; And the glad, wild ways […]...
11. Lines Written From Home Though bleak these woods, and damp the ground With fallen leaves so thickly strown, And cold the wind that wanders round With wild and melancholy moan; There is a friendly roof, I know, Might shield me from the wintry blast; There is a fire, whose ruddy glow Will cheer me for my wanderings past. And […]...
12. Lines to a Don Remote and ineffectual Don That dared attack my Chesterton, With that poor weapon, half-impelled, Unlearnt, unsteady, hardly held, Unworthy for a tilt with men Your quavering and corroded pen; Don poor at Bed and worse at Table, Don pinched, Don starved, Don miserable; Don stuttering, Don with roving eyes, Don nervous, Don of crudities; Don […]...
13. Uncle Harry Oh, never let on to your own true love That ever you drank a drop; That ever you played in a two-up school Or slept in a sly-grog shop; That ever a bad girl nursed you round – That ever you sank so low. But she pulled you through, and it’s only you And your […]...
14. For the Young Who Want To Talent is what they say You have after the novel Is published and favorably Reviewed. Beforehand what You have is a tedious Delusion, a hobby like knitting. Work is what you have done After the play is produced And the audience claps. Before that friends keep asking When you are planning to go Out and […]...
15. Swift's Epitaph Swift has sailed into his rest; Savage indignation there Cannot lacerate his breast. Imitate him if you dare, World-besotted traveller; he Served human liberty....
16. Young Mother Her baby was so full of glee, And through the day It laughed and babbled on her knee In happy play. It pulled her hair all out of curl With noisy joy; So peppy she was glad her girl Was not a boy. Then as she longed for it to sleep, To her surprise It […]...
17. Lines to Him Who Will Understand Them THOU art no more my bosom’s FRIEND; Here must the sweet delusion end, That charm’d my senses many a year, Thro’ smiling summers, winters drear.­ O, FRIENDSHIP! am I doom’d to find Thou art a phantom of the mind? A glitt’ring shade, an empty name, An air-born vision’s vap’rish flame? And yet, the dear DECEIT […]...
18. Last Lines Jan 7th A dreadful darkness closes in On my bewildered mind; O let me suffer and not sin, Be tortured yet resigned. Through all this world of whelming mist Still let me look to Thee, And give me courage to resist The Tempter till he flee. Weary I am O give me strength And leave […]...
19. Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia Swings the way still by hollow and hill, And all the world’s a song; “She’s far,” it sings me, “but fair,” it rings me, “Quiet,” it laughs, “and strong!” Oh! spite of the miles and years between us, Spite of your chosen part, I do remember; and I go With laughter in my heart. So […]...
20. Now At Liberty Little white love, your way you’ve taken; Now I am left alone, alone. Little white love, my heart’s forsaken. (Whom shall I get by telephone?) Well do I know there’s no returning; Once you go out, it’s done, it’s done. All of my days are gray with yearning. (Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.) Little white […]...
21. Lines Inscribed Upon A Cup Formed From A Skull Start not-nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull. I lived, I loved, I quaffed like thee; I died: let earth my bones resign: Fill up-thou canst not injure me; The worm hath fouler lips than thine. Better to hold the […]...
22. Lines Written in the Bay of Lerici She left me at the silent time When the moon had ceas’d to climb The azure path of Heaven’s steep, And like an albatross asleep, Balanc’d on her wings of light, Hover’d in the purple night, Ere she sought her ocean nest In the chambers of the West. She left me, and I stay’d alone […]...
23. Lines Unfelt unheard, unseen, I’ve left my little queen, Her languid arms in silver slumber lying: Ah! through their nestling touch, Who – who could tell how much There is for madness – cruel, or complying? Those faery lids how sleek! Those lips how moist! – they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: Into […]...
24. Lines from Endymion A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loviliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, […]...
25. To A Young Poet Who Killed Himself When you had played with life a space And made it drink and lust and sing, You flung it back into God’s face And thought you did a noble thing. “Lo, I have lived and loved,” you said, “And sung to fools too dull to hear me. Now for a cool and grassy bed With […]...
26. Elegy On The Death Of A Young Man Mournful groans, as when a tempest lowers, Echo from the dreary house of woe; Death-notes rise from yonder minster’s towers! Bearing out a youth, they slowly go; Yes! a youth unripe yet for the bier, Gathered in the spring-time of his days, Thrilling yet with pulses strong and clear, With the flame that in his […]...
27. Lake Maidenly lake, fathomless lake, Stay as you were once, overgrown with rushes, Idling with a reflected cloud, for my sake Whom your shore no longer touches. Your girl was always real to me. Her bones lie in a city by the sea. Everything occurs too normally. A unique love simply wears away. Girl, hey, girl, […]...
28. 110. Epistle to a Young Friend May-, 1786.I LANG hae thought, my youthfu’ friend, A something to have sent you, Tho’ it should serve nae ither end Than just a kind memento: But how the subject-theme may gang, Let time and chance determine; Perhaps it may turn out a sang: Perhaps turn out a sermon. Ye’ll try the world soon, my […]...
29. To An Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away […]...
30. Mail Call The letters always just evade the hand One skates like a stone into a beam, falls like a bird. Surely the past from which the letters rise Is waiting in the future, past the graves? The soldiers are all haunted by their lives. Their claims upon their kind are paid in paper That established a […]...
31. Young Man's Song ‘She will change,’ I cried. ‘Into a withered crone.’ The heart in my side, That so still had lain, In noble rage replied And beat upon the bone: ‘Uplift those eyes and throw Those glances unafraid: She would as bravely show Did all the fabric fade; No withered crone I saw Before the world was […]...
32. Has Sorrow Thy Young Days Shaded Has sorrow thy young days shaded, As clouds o’er the morning fleet? Too fast have those young days faded That, even in sorrow, were sweet? Does Time with his cold wing wither Each feeling that once was dear? Then, child of misfortune, come hither, I’ll weep with thee, tear for tear. Has love to that […]...
33. And Thou Art Dead, As Young and Fair And thou art dead, as young and fair As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon return’d to Earth! Though Earth receiv’d them in her bed, And o’er the spot the crowd may tread In carelessness or mirth, There is an eye which could not brook A moment […]...
34. Lament for Eorl the Young Where now is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow; The days […]...
35. To A Young Girl My dear, my dear, I know More than another What makes your heart beat so; Not even your own mother Can know it as I know, Who broke my heart for her When the wild thought, That she denies And has forgot, Set all her blood astir And glittered in her eyes....
36. A Man Young And Old: VIII. Summer And Spring We sat under an old thorn-tree And talked away the night, Told all that had been said or done Since first we saw the light, And when we talked of growing up Knew that we’d halved a soul And fell the one in t’other’s arms That we might make it whole; Then peter had a […]...
37. Of a Woman, Dead Young If she had been beautiful, even, Or wiser than women about her, Or had moved with a certain defiance; If she had had sons at her sides, And she with her hands on their shoulders, Sons, to make troubled the Gods- But where was there wonder in her? What had she, better or eviler, Whose […]...
38. Lines inscribed to P. de Loutherbourg, Esq. R. A WHERE on the bosom of the foamy RHINE, In curling waves the rapid waters shine; Where tow’ring cliffs in awful grandeur rise, And midst the blue expanse embrace the skies; The wond’ring eye beholds yon craggy height, Ting’d with the glow of Evening’s fading light: Where the fierce cataract swelling o’er its bound, Bursts from […]...
39. Young Blood “But, sir,” I said, “they tell me the man is like to die!” The Canon shook his head indulgently. “Young blood, Cousin,” he boomed. “Young blood! Youth will be served!” D’Hermonville’s Fabliaux. He woke up with a sick taste in his mouth And lay there heavily, while dancing motes Whirled through his brain in endless, […]...
40. INFAMOUS POET I never did fit in – at six or sixty one – I stand out in a crowd, too young or old And gather pity like a shroud. “Is that real silk?” A teenager inquired. “As real as Oxfam ever is For one pound fifty.” The vast ballroom was growing misty And blurred with alcohol […]...