Category Poets

I. So far as our story approaches the end,Which do you pity the most of us three?—My friend, or the mistress of my friendWith her wanton eyes, or me? II. My friend was already too good to lose,And seemed in…

I. That was I, you heard last night,When there rose no moon at all,Nor, to pierce the strained and tightTent of heaven, a planet small:Life was dead and so was light. II. Not a twinkle from the fly,Not a glimmer…

I. My first thought was, he lied in every word, That hoary cripple, with malicious eye Askance to watch the working of his lieOn mine, and mouth scarce able to affordSuppression of the glee, that pursed and scored Its edge, at one more…

I. Oh, what a dawn of day!How the March sun feels like May!All is blue againAfter last night’s rain,And the South dries the hawthorn-spray.Only, my Love’s away!I’d as lief that the blue were grey, II. Runnels, which rillets swell,Must be…

The rain set early in to-night,The sullen wind was soon awake,It tore the elm-tops down for spite,And did its worst to vex the lake:I listened with heart fit to break.When glided in Porphyria; straightShe shut the cold out and the…

I. That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers,And the blue eyeDear and dewy,And that infantine fresh air of hers! II. To think men cannot take you, Sweet,And enfold you,Ay, and hold you,And so keep you what they make you, Sweet! III You…

Take the cloak from his face, and at firstLet the corpse do its worst! How he lies in his rights of a man!Death has done all death can.And, absorbed in the new life he leads,He recks not, he heedsNor his…

I. Let’s contend no more, Love,Strive nor weep:All be as before, Love,—Only sleep! II. What so wild as words are?I and thouIn debate, as birds are,Hawk on bough! III. See the creature stalkingWhile we speak!Hush and hide the talking,Cheek on…

At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time,When you set your fancies free,Will they pass to where—by death, fools think, imprisoned—Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so,—Pity me? Oh to love so, be so…

Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,The mist in my face,When the snows begin, and the blasts denoteI am nearing the place,The power of the night, the press of the storm,The post of the foe;Where he stands, the Arch…