English Poems – Page 38

More English Poems

• To a Skylark

  hail to thee, blithe spirit!
  Bird thou never wert—
  That from heaven or near it …

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

• The Moon

  I
  and, like a dying lady lean and pale,
  Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil, …

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

• From the Arabic

  My faint spirit was sitting in the light
  Of thy looks, my love;
  It panted for thee like the hind at noon …

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

• Lines

  When the lamp is shatter'd,
  The light in the dust lies dead;
  When the cloud is scatter'd, …

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

• The Question

  I DREAM'D that, as I wander'd by the way,
  Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring;
  And gentle odours led my steps astray, …

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

• Remorse

  Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,
  Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:
  Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, …

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

• Willie and Helen

  'wharefore sou'd ye talk o' love,
  Unless it be to pain us?
  Wharefore sou'd ye talk o' love …

  Hew Ainslie

• Burial of the Dead

  I THOUGHT to meet no more, so dreary seem'd
  Death's interposing veil, and thou so pure,
  Thy place in Paradise …

  John Keble

• Written in Northampton County Asylum

  I AM! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
  My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
  I am the self-consumer of my woes; …

  John Clare

• Song of the Indian Maid

  o SORROW!
  Why dost borrow
  The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?— …

  John Keats

• Ode to a Nightingale

  My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
  My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
  Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains …

  John Keats

• Ode on a Grecian Urn

  Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
  Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
  Sylvan historian, who canst thus express …

  John Keats

• Ode to Psyche

  O GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
  By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
  And pardon that thy secrets should be sung …

  John Keats

• To Autumn

  Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
  Conspiring with him how to load and bless …

  John Keats

• Ode on Melancholy

  No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
  Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
  Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist …

  John Keats

• Bards of Passion and of Mirth

  Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
  Ye have left your souls on earth!
  Have ye souls in heaven too, …

  John Keats

• Fancy

  Ever let the Fancy roam,
  Pleasure never is at home:
  At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, …

  John Keats

• Stanzas

  In a drear-nighted December,
  Too happy, happy tree,
  Thy branches ne'er remember …

  John Keats

• Las Belle Dame sans Merci

  'o WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
  Alone and palely loitering?
  The sedge is wither'd from the lake, …

  John Keats

• When I have Fears that I may cease to be

  When I have fears that I may cease to be
  Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
  Before high pil`d books, in charact'ry, …

  John Keats

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