The Best Short Poems of the Nineteenth Century: Being the Twenty-five Best Short Poems as Selected by Ballot by Competent CriticsFleming H. Revell Company, 1899 - 52 pages |
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Alfred angel Art thou bar be moaning BATTLE-HYMN BEST SHORT POEMS Blessed Blow BREAK BUGLE SONG canst CHAMBERED NAUTILUS Charles Kingsley clasp cold CONCORD FIGHT Copyright CROSSING THE BAR DAFFODILS dancing dark deep Diamonds to fasten dost dragon-fly Dream dying Elizabeth Barrett Browning face Forever Francis William Bourdillon Hath heart Heaven heroes Houghton Hymn IDLE TEARS ISRAFEL John Henry Newman John Keats Joseph Blanco White Julia Ward KINDLY LIGHT Kiss Lead Thou lilies look'd Lord Tennyson lov'd lyre Mifflin never come back Never was lady Nineteenth Century o'er Oliver Wendell pass'd Percy Bysshe Shelley PHANTOM OF DELIGHT pipes poets purple Ralph Waldo reed river Robert Browning set the wild ship of pearl sing so wildly Skylark Sleep Sonnet soul Spirit Star stood supplementary list sweet swift thine THOMAS thou art thought turbidly WATERFOWL weary wild echoes flying William Cullen William Wordsworth women must weep
Popular passages
Page 32 - haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Seal But the tender grace of a day that Is dead Will never come back to me.
Page 19 - eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,"—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. —John Keats. 1795-1821.
Page 28 - do not ask to see The distant scene,—one step enough for me. I was not ever thus, nor pray'd that Thou Shouldst lead me on. I lov'd to choose and see my path; but now Lead thou me on! I lov'd the garish day and, spite of fears, Pride rul'd my will: remember not past years. So long Thy power hath
Page 28 - me, sure it still Will lead me on, O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone; And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have lov'd long since, and lost awhile. —John Henry Newman.
Page 12 - of farewell. When I embark. For though from out our bourne of time and place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. —Alfred, Lord Tennyson. 1809-1892.
Page 20 - between life and death: The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect woman, nobly plann'd To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel-light. — William Wordsworth.
Page 24 - night has a thousand eyes And the day but one, Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done. —Francis William Bourdillon. 1852
Page 41 - that loves his fellow-men." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. —Leigh Hunt. 1784-1859.
Page 25 - midst falling dew. While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly seen against the distant sky. Thy figure floats along. Seek'st thou the plashy brink Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, Or where the
Page 44 - Night, when our first parent knew ■*•*■*■ Thee, from divine report, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely Frame, This glorious canopy of Light and Blue? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the