London Roses by Willa Cather

“Rowse, Rowses! Penny a bunch!” they tell you– Slattern girls in Trafalgar, eager to sell you. Roses, roses, red in the Kensington sun, Holland Road, High Street, Bayswater, see you and smell you– Roses of London town, red till the summer is done. Roses, roses, locust and lilac, perfuming West End, East End, wondrously budding […]

In Memory Of Alfred Pollexfen by William Butler Yeats

Five-and-twenty years have gone Since old William pollexfen Laid his strong bones down in death By his wife Elizabeth In the grey stone tomb he made. And after twenty years they laid In that tomb by him and her His son George, the astrologer; And Masons drove from miles away To scatter the Acacia spray […]

Vacillation by William Butler Yeats

I Between extremities Man runs his course; A brand, or flaming breath. Comes to destroy All those antinomies Of day and night; The body calls it death, The heart remorse. But if these be right What is joy? II A tree there is that from its topmost bough Is half all glittering flame and half […]

The Marriage of Heaven and Hell by William Blake

THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL BY WILLIAM BLAKE [lwptoc] THE ARGUMENT RINTRAH roars and shakes his fires in the burden’d air, Hungry clouds swag on the deep. Once meek, and in a perilous path The just man kept his course along The Vale of Death. Roses are planted […]

Poems by William Blake, Songs of Innocence and Experience and the Book of Thel

Poems by William Blake, Songs of Innocence and Experience and the Book of Thel INTRODUCTION    Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me:    “Pipe a song about a Lamb!” So I piped with merry cheer. “Piper, pipe that song again;” […]

To the City of London by William Dunbar

To the City of London by William Dunbar London, thou art of town{.e}s A per se. Soveraign of cities, semeliest in sight, Of high renoun, riches, and royaltie; Of lordis, barons, and many goodly knyght; Of most delectable lusty ladies bright; Of famous prelatis in habitis clericall; Of merchauntis full of substaunce and myght: London, […]

A Summary History of Lord Clive by William Topaz McGonagall

A Summary History of Lord Clive by William Topaz McGonagall About a hundred and fifty years ago, History relates it happened so, A big ship sailed from the shores of Britain Bound for India across the raging main. And many of the passengers did cry and moan As they took the last look of their […]

In Honour of the City of London by William Dunbar

In Honour of the City of London by William Dunbar LONDON, thou art of townes A per se. Soveraign of cities, seemliest in sight, Of high renoun, riches and royaltie; Of lordis, barons, and many a goodly knyght; Of most delectable lusty ladies bright; Of famous prelatis, in habitis clericall; Of merchauntis full of substaunce […]

England! awake! awake! awake! by William Blake

England! awake! awake! awake! Jerusalem thy Sister calls! Why wilt thou sleep the sleep of death And close her from thy ancient walls? Thy hills and valleys felt her feet Gently upon their bosoms move: Thy gates beheld sweet Zion’s ways: Then was a time of joy and love. And now the time returns again: […]

Holy Thursday (Innocence) by William Blake

Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean The children walking two & two in red & blue & green Grey headed beadles walked before with wands as white as snow Till into the high dome of Pauls they like Thames waters flow O what a multitude they seemed these flowers of London town […]

Allegro Maestoso by William Ernest Henley

Spring winds that blow As over leagues of myrtle-blooms and may; Bevies of spring clouds trooping slow, Like matrons heavy bosomed and aglow With the mild and placid pride of increase! Nay, What makes this insolent and comely stream Of appetence, this freshet of desire (Milk from the wild breasts of the wilful Day!), Down […]

The Yeoman of Kent by William Somervile

AY EOMAN bold (suppose of Kent) Liv’d on his own, and paid no rent; Manur’d his own paternal land, Had always money at command To purchase bargains, or to lend, To’ improve his stock, or help a friend; At Cressy and Poictiers of old His ancestors were bowmen bold, Whose good yew bows and sinews […]

Fortune-Hunter, The – Canto 1 by William Somervile

IN FIVE CANTOS CANTO I . Some authors, more abstruse than wise, Friendship confine to stricter ties, Require exact conformity In person, age, and quality Their humours, principles, and wit Must, like Exchequer tallies, hit: — Others, less scrupulous, opine, That hands and hearts in love may join, Though different inclinations sway, For Nature’s more […]

Written in London. September, 1802 by William Wordsworth

O Friend! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom! – We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: The wealthiest man among […]

The Sun Has Long Been Set by William Wordsworth

The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet Among the bushes and the trees; There’s a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, And a far-off wind that rushes, And a sound of water that gushes, And the cuckoo’s sovereign cry Fills all the […]

The Farmer Of Tilsbury Vale by William Wordsworth

‘TIS not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined, The squeamish in taste, and the narrow of mind, And the small critic wielding his delicate pen, That I sing of old Adam, the pride of old men. He dwells in the centre of London’s wide Town; His staff is a sceptre–his grey hairs a crown; And […]

Michael: A Pastoral Poem by William Wordsworth

. If from the public way you turn your steps Up the tumultuous brook of Green-head Ghyll, You will suppose that with an upright path Your feet must struggle; in such bold ascent The pastoral mountains front you, face to face. But, courage! for around that boisterous brook The mountains have all opened out themselves, […]

London, 1802 by William Wordsworth

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give […]

Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg by William Wordsworth

. When first, descending from the moorlands, I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide Along a bare and open valley, The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide. When last along its banks I wandered, Through groves that had begun to shed Their golden leaves upon the pathways, My steps the Border-minstrel led. The mighty Minstrel breathes […]

Book Sixth [Cambridge and the Alps] by William Wordsworth

THE leaves were fading when to Esthwaite’s banks And the simplicities of cottage life I bade farewell; and, one among the youth Who, summoned by that season, reunite As scattered birds troop to the fowler’s lure, Went back to Granta’s cloisters, not so prompt Or eager, though as gay and undepressed In mind, as when […]

Book Seventh [Residence in London] by William Wordsworth

SIX changeful years have vanished since I first Poured out (saluted by that quickening breeze Which met me issuing from the City’s walls) A glad preamble to this Verse: I sang Aloud, with fervour irresistible Of short-lived transport, like a torrent bursting, From a black thunder-cloud, down Scafell’s side To rush and disappear. But soon […]

Book Ninth [Residence in France] by William Wordsworth

EVEN as a river,–partly (it might seem) Yielding to old remembrances, and swayed In part by fear to shape a way direct, That would engulph him soon in the ravenous sea– Turns, and will measure back his course, far back, Seeking the very regions which he crossed In his first outset; so have we, my […]

Book Fourteenth [conclusion] by William Wordsworth

In one of those excursions (may they ne’er Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts Of Cambria ranging with a youthful friend, I left Bethgelert’s huts at couching-time, And westward took my way, to see the sun Rise, from the top of Snowdon. To the door Of a rude cottage at the mountain’s base We […]

The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot

  The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot On the meaning and significance of the poem Translations   The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot FOR EZRA POUND IL MIGLIOR FABBRO                 I. The Burial of the Dead   April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull […]