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epf-000389 | Hence loathed Melancholy,
Of Cerberus, and blackest Midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn,
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy;
Find out some uncouth cell,
Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,
And the night-raven sings;
There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As... | L'Allegro | John Milton | 1 | couplet |
epf-000488 | Who thankless flees me, I with love pursue,
Who loving follows me, I thankless flee;
To him who spurns my love I bend the knee,
His love who seeks me, cold I bid him rue;
I find as diamond him I yearning woo,
Myself a diamond when he yearns for me;
Who slays my love I would victorious see,
While slaying him who wills m... | Caprice | Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001073 | Surgeons must be very careful
When they take the knife!
Underneath their fine incisions
Stirs the Culprit - Life! | Surgeons must be very careful (156) | Emily Dickinson | 2 | common measure |
epf-001327 | O fan of white silk,
clear as frost on the grass-blade,
You also are laid aside. | Fan-Piece for Her Imperial Lord | Ezra Pound | 7 | ode |
epf-000084 | Iago speaks to Roderigo
O, sir, content you;
I follow him to serve my turn upon him:
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave,
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage,
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass,
For nought but prov... | Othello, Act I, Scene I [O, sir, content you] | William Shakespeare | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-000173 | O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hand on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath ... | O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem (Sonnet 54) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000181 | Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
How to divide the conquest of thy sight;
Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,—
A closet never pierced with crystal eyes—
But the defendant doth that plea deny
And says in him th... | Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war (Sonnet 46) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000352 | Lord, Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell,
A little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof:
Under the spars of which I lie
Both soft, and dry;
Where Thou my chamber for to ward
Hast set a guard
Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I sleep.
Low is my po... | A Thanksgiving to God, for his House | Robert Herrick | 1 | couplet |
epf-000640 | She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, ... | She Was a Phantom of Delight | William Wordsworth | 1 | couplet |
epf-000307 | Our storm is past, and that storm's tyrannous rage,
A stupid calm, but nothing it, doth 'suage.
The fable is inverted, and far more
A block afflicts, now, than a stork before.
Storms chafe, and soon wear out themselves, or us;
In calms, Heaven laughs to see us languish thus.
As steady'as I can wish that my thoughts wer... | The Calm | John Donne | 1 | couplet |
epf-001261 | By such an all-embalming summer day
As sweetens now among the mountain pines
Down to the cornland yonder and the vines,
To where the sky and sea are mixed in gray,
How do all things together take their way
Harmonious to the harvest, bringing wines
And bread and light and whatsoe’er combines
In the large wreath to make ... | Near Helikon | Trumbull Stickney | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000123 | Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgement knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning time, whose millon’d accidents
Creep in ’twixt vows and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st i... | Those lines that I before have writ do lie (Sonnet 115) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000235 | To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir... | Hamlet, Act III, Scene I [To be, or not to be] | William Shakespeare | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-001329 | Withouten you
No rose can grow;
No leaf be green
If never seen
Your sweetest face;
No bird have grace
Or power to sing;
Or anything
Be kind, or fair,
And you nowhere. | Little Elegy | Elinor Wylie | 1 | couplet |
epf-000695 | You smiled, you spoke, and I believed,
By every word and smile deceived.
Another man would hope no more;
Nor hope I what I hoped before:
But let not this last wish be vain;
Deceive, deceive me once again! | You Smiled, You Spoke, and I Believed | Walter Savage Landor | 1 | couplet |
epf-000628 | Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,
With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned—
Albeit labouring for a scanty band
Of white-robed Scholars only—this immense
And glorious Work of fine intelligence!
Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more;
So deemed the man who fash... | Inside of King's College Chapel, Cambridge | William Wordsworth | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001353 | Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest,
With single rites the common debt to pay?
On some green headland fronting to the East
Our fairest boy shall kneel at break of day.
Naked, uplifting in a laden tray
New milk and honey and sweet-tinctured wine,
Not without twigs of clustering apple-spray
To wreath a garland ... | Sonnet 16: Who shall invoke her, who shall be her priest | Alan Seeger | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001064 | It's a year almost that I have not seen her:
Oh, last summer green things were greener,
Brambles fewer, the blue sky bluer.
It's surely summer, for there's a swallow:
Come one swallow, his mate will follow,
The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.
Oh happy swallow whose mate will follow
O'er height, o'er hollow! ... | A Bird Song | Christina Rossetti | 7 | ode |
epf-001050 | Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die
Outstretch'd in the sun's warmth upon the shore,
Thou say'st: "Man's measur'd path is all gone o'er:
Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh,
Man clomb until he touch'd the truth; and I,
Even I, am he whom it was destin'd for."
How should this be?... | The House of Life: 73. The Choice, III | Dante Gabriel Rossetti | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000303 | Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
To nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
And her soul early into heaven ravished,
Wholly in heavenly things my mind is set.
Here the admiring her my mind did whet
To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,... | Holy Sonnets: Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt | John Donne | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001103 | Vicisti, Galilæe.
I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;
Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;
For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep.
Sweet is the treading of wine, ... | Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation in Rome of the Christian Faith) | Algernon Charles Swinburne | 1 | couplet |
epf-000470 | from Amphitryon
Fair Iris I love and hourly I die,
But not for a lip nor a languishing eye:
She's fickle and false, and there I agree;
For I am as false and as fickle as she:
We neither believe what either can say;
And, neither believing, we neither betray.
'Tis civil to swear and say things, of course;
We mean not t... | Song: Fair Iris I love and hourly I die | John Dryden | 1 | couplet |
epf-000846 | The harp at Nature’s advent strung
Has never ceased to play;
The song the stars of morning sung
Has never died away.
And prayer is made, and praise is given,
By all things near and far;
The ocean looketh up to heaven,
And mirrors every star.
Its waves are kneeling on the strand,
As kneel... | The Worship of Nature | John Greenleaf Whittier | 2 | common measure |
epf-001354 | Apart sweet women (for whom Heaven be blessed),
Comrades, you cannot think how thin and blue
Look the leftovers of mankind that rest,
Now that the cream has been skimmed off in you.
War has its horrors, but has this of good—
That its sure processes sort out and bind
Brave hearts in one intrepid brotherhood
And leave th... | Sonnet 9: On Returning to the Front after Leave | Alan Seeger | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000197 | Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the ... | Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed (Sonnet 27) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001089 | Methought a sweet sound from the street uprose,—
And as I pause, and strive again to hear,
‘St Patrick’s Day’ draws softly to its close,
And ‘Jordan’s’ waves flow sweetly to my ear,
What though from humble source the chorus floats?
Music is music, and I listen still;
I have ‘an ear’, — ay, two! — Even jews-... | Street Music | Elizabeth Akers Allen | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000444 | DORINDA
When death shall part us from these kids,
And shut up our divided lids,
Tell me, Thyrsis, prithee do,
Whither thou and I must go.
THYRSIS
To the Elysium.
DORINDA
Oh, where is’t?
THYRSIS
A chaste soul can never miss’t.
DORINDA
I know no way but to our home,
Is our cell Elysium?
THYRS... | A Dialogue between Thyrsis and Dorinda | Andrew Marvell | 1 | couplet |
epf-000058 | Oh, laud the Lord, the God of hosts commend,
Exalt his pow’r, advance his holiness:
With all your might lift his almightiness;
Your greatest praise upon his greatness spend.
Make trumpet’s noise in shrillest notes ascend;
Make lute and lyre his loved fame express;
Him let the pipe, ... | Psalm 150 | Mary Sidney Herbert Countess of Pembroke | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000298 | If poisonous minerals, and if that tree
Whose fruit threw death on else immortal us,
If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
Cannot be damn'd, alas, why should I be?
Why should intent or reason, born in me,
Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
And mercy being easy, and glorious
To God, in his stern wrath why thre... | Holy Sonnets: If poisonous minerals, and if that tree | John Donne | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001321 | I chose the place where I would rest
When death should come to claim me,
With the red-rose roots to wrap my breast
And a quiet stone to name me.
But I am laid on a northern steep
With the roaring tides below me,
And only the frosts to bind my sleep,
And only the winds to know me. | Exile | Marjorie Pickthall | 2 | common measure |
epf-000070 | Cassius speaks to Brutus
Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
“Brut... | Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene II [Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world] | William Shakespeare | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-001332 | The rain’s cold grains are silver-gray
Sharp as golden sands,
A bell is clanging, people sway
Hanging by their hands.
Supple hands, or gnarled and stiff,
Snatch and catch and grope;
That face is yellow-pale, as if
The fellow swung from rope.
Dull like pebbles, sharp like knives,
Glances strike and glare,
Fingers tang... | A Crowded Trolley Car | Elinor Wylie | 2 | common measure |
epf-001114 | I looked up from my writing,
And gave a start to see,
As if rapt in my inditing,
The moon's full gaze on me.
Her meditative misty head
Was spectral in its air,
And I involuntarily said,
'What are you doing there?'
'Oh, I've been scanning pond and hole
And waterway hereabout
For the body of one with a sun... | I Looked Up from My Writing | Thomas Hardy | 12 | quatrain |
epf-001306 | Molly Bloom's closing soliloquy
...and Gibraltar as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Moorish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask agai... | Ulysses [excerpt] | James Joyce | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-000251 | When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-ras'd
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the wat'ry main,
Increasing store with loss a... | Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time's fell hand defac'd | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000587 | Who has not waked to list the busy sounds
Of summer’s morning, in the sultry smoke
Of noisy London? On the pavement hot
The sooty chimney-boy, with dingy face
And tattered covering, shrilly bawls his trade,
Rousing the sleepy housemaid. At the door
The milk-pail rattles, and the tinkling bell
Proclaims the dustman’s of... | London’s Summer Morning | Mary Robinson | 6 | blank verse |
epf-000293 | At the round earth's imagined corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
All whom the flood did, and fire shall, o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes,
Shall... | At the round earth's imagined corners (Holy Sonnet 7) | John Donne | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000269 | O, call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside;
What need’st thou wound with cunning when thy might
Is... | Sonnet 139: O, call not me to justify the wrong | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000031 | One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likew... | Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote her Name | Edmund Spenser | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000294 | Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with t... | Death, be not proud (Holy Sonnet 10) | John Donne | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000415 | See here an easy feast that knows no wound,
That under hunger’s teeth will needs be sound;
A subtle harvest of unbounded bread,
What would ye more? Here food itself is fed. | Divine Epigrams: On the Miracle of the Multiplied Loaves | Richard Crashaw | 1 | couplet |
epf-000127 | Alas, ’tis true I have gone here and there
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offences of affections new;
Most true it is that I have look’d on truth
Askance and strangely: but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essay p... | Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there (Sonnet 110) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000417 | Love, thou are absolute sole lord
Of life and death. To prove the word,
We’ll now appeal to none of all
Those thy old soldiers, great and tall,
Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down
With strong arms their triumphant crown;
Such as could with lusty breath
Speak loud into the face of death
Their great Lord’s glori... | A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint Teresa | Richard Crashaw | 1 | couplet |
epf-000608 | Under the evening moon
the snail
is stripped to the waist. | [under the evening moon] | Kobayashi Issa | 11 | haiku |
epf-000160 | O, lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me, that you should love
After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceased I
That niggard truth love may... | O, lest the world should task you to recite (Sonnet 72) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001358 | The tired cars go grumbling by,
The moaning, groaning cars,
And the old milk carts go rumbling by
Under the same dull stars.
Out of the tenements, cold as stone,
Dark figures start for work;
I watch them sadly shuffle on,
’Tis dawn, dawn in New York.
But I would be o... | When Dawn Comes to the City | Claude McKay | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000020 | When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:
Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.
How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the prouder... | When I Was Fair and Young | Queen Elizabeth I | 1 | couplet |
epf-000709 | Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?"—The vision... | Abou Ben Adhem | Leigh Hunt | 1 | couplet |
epf-000509 | But anxious cares the pensive nymph oppress'd,
And secret passions labour'd in her breast.
Not youthful kings in battle seiz'd alive,
Not scornful virgins who their charms survive,
Not ardent lovers robb'd of all their bliss,
Not ancient ladies when refus'd a kiss,
Not tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia w... | The Rape of the Lock: Canto 4 | Alexander Pope | 1 | couplet |
epf-001333 | For this she starred her eyes with salt
And scooped her temples thin,
Until her face shone pure of fault
From the forehead to the chin.
In coldest crucibles of pain
Her shrinking flesh was fired
And smoothed into a finer grain
To make it more desired.
Pain left her lips more clear than glass;
It colored and cooled he... | Epitaph | Elinor Wylie | 2 | common measure |
epf-001451 | Naangodinong Sometimes
nimbabaazhawendaan I go about pitying
niyaa myself
babaamaajaayaan while I am carried by the wind
giizhigong across the sky | Song of the Thunders | Anonymous | 5 | free verse |
epf-001105 | I
Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour of winter had passed out of sight,
The ways of the woodlands were fairer and stranger than dreams that fulfil us in sleep with delight;
The breath of the mouths of the winds had hardened on tree-tops and branches that glittered and swayed
Such wonder... | March: An Ode | Algernon Charles Swinburne | 1 | couplet |
epf-001402 | I sit upon the white rocks by the bay,
Against whose hollows numberless, the waves
Will splash forevermore. The sunset laves
The deep with light. There rise far away
A mountain that has seemingly defied
The very clouds unchanged. And near, portending
That all created things will have an ending,
These crumbled crags lie... | Manila Bay | Luis G. Dato | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000529 | When Learning’s triumph o’er her barb’rous foes
First rear’d the stage, immortal Shakespear rose;
Each change of many-colour’d life he drew,
Exhausted worlds, and then imagin’d new:
Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
And panting Time toil’d after him in vain:
His pow’rful strokes presiding Truth impress’d,
And ... | Drury-lane Prologue Spoken by Mr. Garrick at the Opening of the Theatre in Drury-Lane, 1747 | Samuel Johnson | 1 | couplet |
epf-000651 | Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!
And giv'st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,
By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul;
Not with the mean and vulgar wor... | Influence of Natural Objects in Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination in Boyhood and Early Youth | William Wordsworth | 6 | blank verse |
epf-000552 | While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn yields,
Trembles upon the thin, and naked spray,
November, dragging on this sunless day,
Lours, cold and sullen, on the watery fields;
And Nature to the waste dominion yields,
Stripped her last robes, with gold and purple gay —
So droops my life, of your soft beam... | Sonnet 84: While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn yields | Anna Seward | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000016 | Stand whoso list upon the slipper top
Of court’s estates, and let me here rejoice;
And use me quiet without let or stop,
Unknown in court, that hath such brackish joys:
In hidden place, so let my days forth pass,
That when my years be done, withouten noise,
I may die agèd after the common trace,
Fo... | Stand Whoso List | Sir Thomas Wyatt | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000604 | The castle clock had tolled midnight:
With mattock and with spade,
And silent, by the torches’ light,
His corse in earth we laid.
The coffin bore his name, that those
Of other years might know,
When earth its secrets should disclose,
Whose bones were laid below.
“Peace to the dead” no children sung,
... | On the Funeral of Charles the First at Night, in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor | William Lisle Bowles | 3 | ballad |
epf-000697 | Ianthe! you are call’d to cross the sea!
A path forbidden me!
Remember, while the Sun his blessing sheds
Upon the mountain-heads,
How often we have watcht him laying down
His brow, and dropt our own
Against each other’s, and how faint and short
And sliding the support!
What will succ... | Ianthe! You are Call’d to Cross the Sea | Walter Savage Landor | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-000684 | Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC,
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form!
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,
How silently! Around thee and above
Deep is the air and dark, substa... | Hymn before Sun-rise, in the Vale of Chamouni | Samuel Taylor Coleridge | 6 | blank verse |
epf-000829 | In the valley of the Pegnitz, where across broad meadow-lands
Rise the blue Franconian mountains, Nuremberg, the ancient, stands.
Quaint old town of toil and traffic, quaint old town of art and song,
Memories haunt thy pointed gables, like the rooks that round them throng:
Memories of the Middle Ages, when the empero... | Nuremberg | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | 1 | couplet |
epf-000252 | Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And... | Sonnet 66: Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000810 | The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole
God ... | Sonnets from the Portuguese 7: The face of all the world is changed, I think | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000613 | Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in th... | Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 | William Wordsworth | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000337 | Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little? Reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbour give
To more virtue than doth live.
If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,
Th' other let it sleep with death:
Fitter, where it di... | Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. | Ben Jonson | 4 | elegy |
epf-000699 | Child of a day, thou knowest not
The tears that overflow thy urn,
The gushing eyes that read thy lot,
Nor, if thou knewest, couldst return!
And why the wish! the pure and blest
Watch like thy mother o'er thy sleep.
O peaceful night! O envied rest!
Thou wilt not ever see her weep. | Child of a Day | Walter Savage Landor | 4 | elegy |
epf-000300 | I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betray'd to endless night
My world's both parts, and oh both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my ... | Holy Sonnets: I am a little world made cunningly | John Donne | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000047 | Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance
Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize,
Both by the judgment of the English eyes
And of some sent from that sweet enemy France;
Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance,
Town folks my strength; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise;
S... | Astrophil and Stella 41: Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance | Sir Philip Sidney | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001296 | There are no handles upon a language
Whereby men take hold of it
And mark it with signs for its remembrance.
It is a river, this language,
Once in a thousand years
Breaking a new course
Changing its way to the ocean.
It is mountain effluvia
Moving to valleys
And from nation to nation
Crossing borders and mixing.
Langua... | Languages | Carl Sandburg | 14 | ars poetica |
epf-000676 | [Addressed to Charles Lamb, of the India House, London]
Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,
This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost
Beauties and feelings, such as would have been
Most sweet to my remembrance even when age
Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile,
Friends, whom I never more may m... | This Lime-tree Bower my Prison | Samuel Taylor Coleridge | 10 | pastoral |
epf-000671 | As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood,
That crests its Head with clouds, beneath the flood
Feeds its deep roots, and with the bulging flank
Of its wide base controls the fronting bank,
(By the slant current's pressure scoop'd away
The fronting bank becomes a foam-piled bay)
High in the Fork the uncouth Idol knits
His... | Fragment 4: As some vast Tropic tree, itself a wood | Samuel Taylor Coleridge | 1 | couplet |
epf-000868 | Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy?
Proputty, proputty, proputty—that's what I 'ears 'em saäy.
Proputty, proputty, proputty—Sam, thou's an ass for thy paaïns:
Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs, nor in all thy braaïns.
Woä—theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam; yon 's parson's 'ouse—
Dosn't tho... | Northern Farmer: New Style | Lord Tennyson Alfred | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-000185 | That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;
That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A loss in love that ouches me more nearly.
Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:
Thou dost hove her, because thou know’st I love her;
And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
Suffering... | That thou hast her, it is not all my grief (Sonnet 42) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000850 | The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crispéd and sere—
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir—
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
... | To -- -- --. Ulalume: A Ballad | Edgar Allan Poe | 3 | ballad |
epf-000635 | From Stirling castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my "winsome Marrow ,"
"Whate'er betide, we'll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow."
"Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
Who have been buying,... | Yarrow Unvisited | William Wordsworth | 3 | ballad |
epf-001101 | Bird of the bitter bright grey golden morn
Scarce risen upon the dusk of dolorous years,
First of us all and sweetest singer born
Whose far shrill note the world of new men hears
Cleave the cold shuddering shade as twilight clears;
When song new-born put off the old world's attire
And felt its tune on... | A Ballad of François Villon, Prince of All Ballad-Makers | Algernon Charles Swinburne | 3 | ballad |
epf-000090 | Macbeth speaks to Seyton, his servant, after learning of Lady Macbeth's death
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools... | Macbeth, Act V, Scene V [She should have died hereafter] | William Shakespeare | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-000729 | I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wie... | The Cloud | Percy Bysshe Shelley | 10 | pastoral |
epf-000858 | A wild-bear chace, didst never see?
Then hast thou lived in vain.
Thy richest bump of glorious glee,
Lies desert in thy brain.
When first my father settled here,
’Twas then the frontier line:
The panther’s scream, filled night with fear
And bears preyed on the swine.
But woe for Bruin’s short lived fun,
... | The Bear Hunt | Abraham Lincoln | 2 | common measure |
epf-001381 | I will to the King,
And offer him consolation in his trouble,
For that man there has set his teeth to die,
And being one that hates obedience,
Discipline, and orderliness of life,
I cannot mourn him.
W.B. YEATS
... | S. I. W. | Wilfred Owen | 1 | couplet |
epf-001129 | Felix Randal the farrier, O is he dead then? my duty all ended,
Who have watched his mould of man, big-boned and hardy-handsome
Pining, pining, till time when reason rambled in it, and some
Fatal four disorders, fleshed there, all contended?
Sickness broke him. Impatient, he cursed at first, but mended
Being anointed a... | Felix Randal | Gerard Manley Hopkins | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001021 | Not solely that the Future she destroys,
And the fair life which in the distance lies
For all men, beckoning out from dim rich skies:
Nor that the passing hour’s supporting joys
Have lost the keen-edged flavour, which begat
Distinction in old times, and still should breed
Sweet Memory, and Hope,—earth’s modest seed,
An... | Modern Love: XII | George Meredith | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000577 | 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 chear,
Piper pipe that song again—
So I piped, he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe thy happy pipe
Sing thy songs of happy chear,
So I sung the same again... | Introduction to the Songs of Innocence | William Blake | 1 | couplet |
epf-000566 | In Virgynë the sweltrie sun gan sheene,
And hotte upon the mees did caste his raie;
The apple rodded from its palie greene,
And the mole peare did bende the leafy spraie;
The peede chelandri sunge the livelong daie;
’Twas nowe the pride, the manhode of the yeare,
And eke the grounde was dighte in its moste defte aumere... | An Excelente Balade of Charitie | Thomas Chatterton | 3 | ballad |
epf-001434 | Dear, did we meet in some dim yesterday?
I half remember how the birds were mute
Among green leaves and tulip-tinted fruit,
And on the grass, beside a stream, we lay
In early twilight; faintly, far away,
Came lovely sounds adrift from silver lute,
With answered echoes of an airy flute,
While Twilight wa... | With Music | Helen Hay Whitney | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000077 | A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted,
Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion:
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue all ‘hues’ in his control... | A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted (Sonnet 20) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000324 | Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little? Reader, stay.
Underneath this stone doth lie
As much beauty as could die;
Which in life did harbour give
To more virtue than doth live.
If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,
Th' other let it sleep with death:
Fitter, where it di... | Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. | Ben Jonson | 1 | couplet |
epf-000790 | Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honied thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.
If I refuse
My study for their politique,
Which at the best is trick,
The angry Muse
Puts confusion in my brain.
But who is he that prates
Of the culture of mankind,
Of better arts and lif... | Ode, Inscribed to William H. Channing | Ralph Waldo Emerson | 7 | ode |
epf-000104 | Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health... | Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press (Sonnet 140) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001304 | My pa he didn’t go to town
Last evening after tea,
But got a book and settled down
As comfy as could be.
I’ll tell you I was offul glad
To have my pa about
To answer all the things I had
Been tryin’ to find out.
And so I asked him why the world
Is round instead of square,
And why the piggi... | Getting Information Out of Pa | Anonymous | 3 | ballad |
epf-000327 | Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who are
Life of the Muses' day, their morning star!
If works, not th' author's, their own grace should look,
Whose poems would not wish to be your book?
But these, desir'd by you, the maker's ends
Crown with their own. Rare poems ask rare friends.
Yet satires, since the most of manki... | To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with John Donne's Satires | Ben Jonson | 1 | couplet |
epf-000605 | The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children. | [the snow is melting] | Kobayashi Issa | 11 | haiku |
epf-000482 | ’Twas the new moon!
Since then I waited—
And lo! to-night!
[I have my reward!] | [’Twas the new moon!] | Matsuo Bashō | 11 | haiku |
epf-001425 | My heart is like an opal, flashing fire
And flaming gleams of pointed light
At thy approach; or lying cold and white
When thou art gone; robbed of a dream’s desire
Is left moon-white and dull; no darting flame
Or sapphire gleam to mark a sweet suspense.
But only still, benumbed indifference
Unwaked at thy soft whisper ... | Sonnets from the Cherokee (I) | Ruth Muskrat Bronson | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000350 | From the dull confines of the drooping west
To see the day spring from the pregnant east,
Ravish'd in spirit, I come, nay more, I fly
To thee, blest place of my nativity!
Thus, thus with hallow'd foot I touch the ground,
With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd.
O fruitful genius! that bestowest here
An everlasti... | His Return to London | Robert Herrick | 1 | couplet |
epf-000740 | Well, honest John, how fare you now at home?
The spring is come, and birds are building nests;
The old cock-robin to the sty is come,
With olive feathers and its ruddy breast;
And the old cock, with wattles and red comb,
Struts with the hens, and seems to like some best,
Then crows, and looks about for little crumbs,
S... | To John Clare | John Clare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000788 | Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home:
Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.
Long through thy weary crowds I roam;
A river-ark on the ocean brine,
Long I've been tossed like the driven foam;
But now, proud world! I'm going home.
Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face;
To Grandeur with his wise grimace;
To upstart We... | Good-Bye | Ralph Waldo Emerson | 1 | couplet |
epf-000818 | " Yes !" I answered you last night ;
" No !" this morning, Sir, I say !
Colours, seen by candle-light,
Will not look the same by day.
When the tabors played their best,
Lamps above, and laughs below —
Love me sounded like a jest,
Fit for Yes or fit for No !
Call me false, or call me free —
Vow, whatever light may shi... | The Lady's Yes | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 3 | ballad |
epf-000523 | DANCINDA. " NO, fair DANCINDA, no ; you strive in vain
" To calm my care and mitigate my pain ;
" If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move,
" Ah ! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love."
Thus STREPHON spoke. DANCINDA thus reply'd :
What must I do to gratify your pride ?
Too well you know (ungrateful as thou art)... | Town Eclogues: Wednesday; The Tête à Tête | Lady Mary Wortley Montagu | 1 | couplet |
epf-000063 | Dear, why should you command me to my rest
When now the night doth summon all to sleep?
Methinks this time becometh lovers best;
Night was ordain'd together friends to keep.
How happy are all other living things
Which, though the day disjoin by sev'ral flight,
The quiet ev'ning yet together brings,
And each returns unt... | Idea 37: Dear, why should you command me to my rest | Michael Drayton | 0 | sonnet |
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