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epf-001372 | I know I am but summer to your heart,
And not the full four seasons of the year;
And you must welcome from another part
Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear.
No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell
Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing;
And I have loved you all too long and well
To carry still the high sweet b... | I know I am but summer to your heart (Sonnet XXVII) | Edna St. Vincent Millay | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000594 | O Mary, at thy window be,
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That makes the miser's treasure poor:
How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.
Yestreen when to the t... | Mary Morison | Robert Burns | 3 | ballad |
epf-000538 | For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the bl... | from Jubilate Agno | Christopher Smart | 5 | free verse |
epf-001406 | Our days in swift succession bid us on
To these unchartered, desolate domains,
Where over deserts strewn with the remains
Of unreturning caravans long gone,
We follow trails that, winding, go astray
Into the dull horizon. We know not
What ending’s there, what fortunes be our lot,
When tired and spent we reach our desti... | Sonnet [Our days in swift succession bid us on] | Luis G. Dato | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000680 | The Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze—
'Tis there indeed,—but where is it not?—
It is suffused o'er all the sapphire Heaven,
Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,
Whose very murmur does of it partake
And low and close the broad smooth mountain
Is more a thing of Heaven tha... | Fragment 6: The Moon, how definite its orb! | Samuel Taylor Coleridge | 10 | pastoral |
epf-000883 | As thro' the land at eve we went,
And pluck'd the ripen'd ears,
We fell out, my wife and I,
O we fell out I know not why,
And kiss'd again with tears.
And blessings on the falling out
That all the more endears,
When we fall out with those we love
And kiss again with tears!
For when we came where... | from The Princess: As thro' the Land | Lord Tennyson Alfred | 2 | common measure |
epf-001228 | In all my days of troubled loneliness
And fretted grief Cervantes is to me
A faithful friend, and none so true as he,
That brings me precious gifts of quietness.
All nature his, and life. Of his largesse
My dreams, that are knight-errants bold and free,
Have golden casques to crown them gloriously.
He is, for me: sigh... | A Sonnet on Cervantes | Rubén Darío | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000921 | FERRARA
That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; Fra Pandolf’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there she stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at her? I said
“Fra Pandolf” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth... | My Last Duchess | Robert Browning | 13 | ekphrasis |
epf-000750 | Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or g... | Ode on a Grecian Urn | John Keats | 13 | ekphrasis |
epf-000164 | This is his cheek the map of days outworn,
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
Before these bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchers, were shorn away,
To live a second life on second head;
Ere beauty’s dead fleece made a... | This is his cheek the map of days outworn (Sonnet 68) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001336 | My shoulders ache beneath my pack
(Lie easier, Cross, upon His back).
I march with feet that burn and smart
(Tread, Holy Feet, upon my heart).
Men shout at me who may not speak
(They scourged Thy back and smote Thy cheek).
I may not lift a hand to clear
My eyes of salty drops that sear.
(Then shall my fickle soul f... | Prayer of a Soldier in France | Joyce Kilmer | 1 | couplet |
epf-001204 | On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache wit... | Gitanjali 20 | Rabindranath Tagore | 9 | prose poem |
epf-000145 | Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know’st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my pa... | Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possession (Sonnet 87) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000174 | What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you;
On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted... | What is your substance, whereof are you made (Sonnet 53) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000460 | Happy those early days! when I
Shined in my angel infancy.
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white, celestial thought;
When yet I had not walked above
A mile or two from my first love,
And looking back, at that short space,
Could see a glimpse of His bri... | The Retreat | Henry Vaughan | 1 | couplet |
epf-000844 | I write my name as one,
On sands by waves o’errun
Or winter’s frosted pane,
Traces a record vain.
Oblivion’s blankness claims
Wiser and better names,
And well my own may pass
As from the strand or glass.
Wash on, O waves of time!
Melt, noons, the frosty rime!
Welcome the shadow vast,
The silence that shall last!
Whe... | An Autograph | John Greenleaf Whittier | 1 | couplet |
epf-000151 | I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the tim... | I grant thou wert not married to my Muse (Sonnet 82) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000152 | Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombe... | Or I shall live your epitaph to make (Sonnet 81) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000133 | Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!
O, blame me not, if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines and doing... | Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth (Sonnet 103) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000828 | I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?
Long, long afterward, in an oak
I fou... | The Arrow and the Song | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | 1 | couplet |
epf-000822 | I pace the sounding sea-beach and behold
How the voluminous billows roll and run,
Upheaving and subsiding, while the sun
Shines through their sheeted emerald far unrolled,
And the ninth wave, slow gathering fold by fold
All its loose-flowing garments into one,
Plunges upon the shore, and f... | Milton | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001189 | O fool, to try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! O beggar, to come to beg at thy own door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, and never look behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath. It is unholy—take not thy gifts through its unclean ha... | Gitanjali 9 | Rabindranath Tagore | 9 | prose poem |
epf-000951 | Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?
Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?
List to the yarn, as my grandmother’s father the sailor told it to me.
Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,)
His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never... | Song of Myself: 35 | Walt Whitman | 5 | free verse |
epf-000835 | The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
That my soul cannot resist:
A feeling of sadness and longing... | The Day is Done | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | 2 | common measure |
epf-001310 | In misty cerements they wrapped the word
My heart had feared so long: dead... dead... I heard
But marvelled they could think the thing was true
Because death cannot be for such as you.
So while they spoke kind words to suit my need
Of foolish idle things my heart took heed,
Your racquet and worn-out tennis shoe,
Your p... | Dead | Winifred M. Letts | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000646 | 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... | Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg | William Wordsworth | 4 | elegy |
epf-001326 | London, my beautiful,
it is not the sunset
nor the pale green sky
shimmering through the curtain
of the silver birch,
nor the quietness;
it is not the hopping
of birds
upon the lawn,
nor the darkness
stealing over all things
that moves me.
But as the moon creeps slowly
over the tree-tops
among the stars,
I think of he... | [London, my beautiful] | F. S. Flint | 7 | ode |
epf-001071 | “Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea ... | “Hope” is the thing with feathers | Emily Dickinson | 2 | common measure |
epf-000632 | Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone... | Most Sweet it is | William Wordsworth | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001193 | My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come between thee and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet’s vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and str... | Gitanjali 7 | Rabindranath Tagore | 9 | prose poem |
epf-000180 | Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
And each doth good turns now unto the other:
When that mine eye is famish’d for a look,
Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
With my love’s picture then my eye doth feast
And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
Another time mine eye is my heart’s guest
And in ... | Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took (Sonnet 47) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000459 | Awake, glad heart! get up and sing!
It is the birth-day of thy King.
Awake! awake!
The Sun doth shake
Light from his locks, and all the way
Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.
Awake, awake! hark how th’ wood rings;
Winds whisper, and the busy springs
A concert make;
Awake! awake!
Man is their h... | Christ’s Nativity | Henry Vaughan | 1 | couplet |
epf-000159 | But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest this, thou dost review
The very part was consecrate to thee:
The earth can have but earth, which is his due;
My spirit is thine, the b... | But be contented: when that fell arrest (Sonnet 74) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000645 | I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the ma... | I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud | William Wordsworth | 10 | pastoral |
epf-000428 | If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give... | To My Dear and Loving Husband | Anne Bradstreet | 1 | couplet |
epf-000582 | I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe... | A Poison Tree | William Blake | 1 | couplet |
epf-001113 | April 1915
I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar
From rail-track and from highway, and I heard
In field and farmstead many an ancient word
Of local lineage like 'Thu bist,' 'Er war,'
'Ich woll', 'Er sholl', and by-talk similar,
Nigh as they speak who in this month's moon gird
At England's very loins, thereunto spurred... | The Pity of It | Thomas Hardy | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000861 | All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night,
All along the valley, where thy waters flow,
I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago.
All along the valley, while I walk'd to-day,
The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away;
For all along the val... | In the Valley of Cauteretz | Lord Tennyson Alfred | 1 | couplet |
epf-000237 | Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds w... | Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; (Sonnet 113) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000715 | I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this ... | Darkness | Lord Byron (George Gordon) | 6 | blank verse |
epf-001052 | Sometimes she is a child within mine arms,
Cowering beneath dark wings that love must chase,—
With still tears showering and averted face,
Inexplicably fill'd with faint alarms:
And oft from mine own spirit's hurtling harms
I crave the refuge of her deep embrace,—
Against all ills the fortified stro... | The House of Life: 22. Heart's Haven | Dante Gabriel Rossetti | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001041 | Sung on the occasion of decorating the graves of the Confederate dead, at Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S. C., 1866
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause!—
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds of laurels in the earth,
The garlands of your fame are ... | Ode | Henry Timrod | 4 | elegy |
epf-001116 | I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be
... | The Darkling Thrush | Thomas Hardy | 4 | elegy |
epf-000109 | Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Is ’t not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must be
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engross’d:
Of him, myself, and thee. I am forsaken;
A torment th... | Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan (Sonnet 133) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001186 | The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.
It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and that training is the most intricat... | Gitanjali 12 | Rabindranath Tagore | 9 | prose poem |
epf-000219 | When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
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 watery main,
Increasing store with loss a... | When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced (Sonnet 64) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001027 | It ended, and the morrow brought the task.
Her eyes were guilty gates, that let him in
By shutting all too zealous for their sin:
Each sucked a secret, and each wore a mask.
But, oh, the bitter taste her beauty had!
Her sickened as at breath of poison-flowers:
A languid humour stole among the hours,
And if their smiles... | Modern Love: II | George Meredith | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001362 | In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire,
Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned!
His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls.
The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat
To him. On fragments of an old shrunk power,
On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry,
He lay, a bullying hulk, to crush them more... | God | Isaac Rosenberg | 6 | blank verse |
epf-001213 | You that are dear, O you above the rest!
Forgive him his evasive moods and cold;
The absence that belied him oft of old,
The war upon sad speech, the desperate jest,
And pity’s wildest gush but half-confessed,
Forgive him! Let your gentle memories hold
Some written word once tender and once bold,
Or service done shamef... | Reserve | Louise Imogen Guiney | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000221 | Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or natur... | Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? (Sonnet 18) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000507 | Not with more glories, in th' etherial plain,
The sun first rises o'er the purpled main,
Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams
Launch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames.
Fair nymphs, and well-dress'd youths around her shone,
But ev'ry eye was fix'd on her alone.
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Wh... | The Rape of the Lock: Canto 2 | Alexander Pope | 1 | couplet |
epf-000935 | Riches I hold in light esteem,
And Love I laugh to scorn;
And lust of fame was but a dream,
That vanished with the morn:
And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear,
And give me liberty!"
Yes, as my swift days near their goal:
’Tis all that I implore;
I... | The Old Stoic | Emily Brontë | 7 | ode |
epf-000085 | Marullus speaks to two rejoicing Commoners
Wherefore rejoice? What conquest brings he home?
What tributaries follow him to Rome,
To grace in captive bonds his chariot-wheels?
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,
Knew you not Pompey? Many a time and oft
Have... | Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene I [Wherefore rejoice?] | William Shakespeare | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-001365 | O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glo... | God’s World | Edna St. Vincent Millay | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001170 | The sea was sapphire coloured, and the sky
Burned like a heated opal through air,
We hoisted sail; the wind was blowing fair
For the blue lands that to the eastward lie.
From the steep prow I marked with quickening eye
Zakynthos, every olive grove and creek,
Ithaca’s cliff, Lycaon’s snowy peak,
And all ... | Impression du Voyage | Oscar Wilde | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001409 | This day when waking from pertubéd sleep,
I see the dim night die upon the dawn,
And gaze on gleaming hill and dewy lawn,
On sunbeams soft that o’er the valley peep;
When Nature seems with ecstasy to weep
At seeing earth and sky so lovely grown,
And innocently to herself alone
Counts and recounts the flowers and clouds... | Sonnet [This day when waking from pertubéd sleep] | Luis G. Dato | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000022 | Never think you fortune can bear the sway
Where virtue’s force can cause her to obey. | In Defiance of Fortune | Queen Elizabeth I | 1 | couplet |
epf-000532 | Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
... | Ode on the Spring | Thomas Gray | 7 | ode |
epf-000261 | Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,
Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait
On purpose laid to make the ... | Sonnet 129: Th'expense of spirit in a waste of shame | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001392 | Some things are very dear to me—
Such things as flowers bathed by rain
Or patterns traced upon the sea
Or crocuses where snow has lain ...
the iridescence of a gem,
The moon’s cool opalescent light,
Azaleas and the scent of them,
And honeysuckles in the night.
And many sounds are also dear—
Like winds that sing among t... | Sonnet 2 | Gwendolyn Bennett | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000135 | O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say
‘Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix’d;
Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay;
But best is best, if neve... | O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends (Sonnet 101) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000008 | Pla ce bo,
Who is there, who?
Di le xi,
Dame Margery;
Fa, re, my, my,
Wherfore and why, why?
For the sowle of Philip Sparowe,
That was late slayn at Carowe,
Among the Nones Blake,
For that swete soules sake,
And for all sparowes soules,
Set in our bederolles,
Pater noster qui,
With an Ave Mari,
And with the corner of a... | The Book of Phillip Sparrow | John Skelton | 4 | elegy |
epf-000757 | Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is neares... | The Human Seasons | John Keats | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000015 | Unstable dream, according to the place,
Be steadfast once, or else at least be true.
By tasted sweetness make me not to rue
The sudden loss of thy false feignèd grace.
By good respect in such a dangerous case
Thou broughtest not her into this tossing mew
But madest my sprite live, my care to renew,
My body in tempest h... | Unstable Dream | Sir Thomas Wyatt | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000953 | I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhan... | I Hear America Singing | Walt Whitman | 5 | free verse |
epf-001042 | It is a place whither I’ve often gone
For peace, and found it, secret, hushed, and cool,
A beautiful recess in neighboring woods.
Trees of the soberest hues, thick-leaved and tall,
Arch it o’erhead and column it around,
Framing a covert, natural and wild,
Domelike and dim; though nowhere so enclosed
But that the gentle... | The Summer Bower | Henry Timrod | 6 | blank verse |
epf-000156 | Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste:
The vacant leaves thy mind’s imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial’s shady stealth mayst know
Time... | Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear (Sonnet 77) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000779 | Long time a child, and still a child, when years
Had painted manhood on my cheek, was I,—
For yet I lived like one not born to die;
A thriftless prodigal of smiles and tears,
No hope I needed, and I knew no fears.
But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep, and waking,
I waked to sleep no more, at once o’ertaking
The vangu... | Long time a child, and still a child, when years | Hartley Coleridge | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000752 | Haydon! Forgive me, that I cannot speak
Definitively on these mighty things;
Forgive me that I have not Eagle's wings—
That what I want I know not where to seek:
And think that I would not be over meek
In rolling out upfollow'd thunderings,
Even to the steep of Helciconian springs,
Were I of ample strength ... | To Haydon with a Sonnet Written on Seeing the Elgin Marbles | John Keats | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000866 | Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:
What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang)
In height and cold, the splendour of the hills?
But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease
To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine,
To sit a star upon the sparkling spire;
And come, for Love is of the valley, come,
Fo... | from The Princess: Come down, O Maid | Lord Tennyson Alfred | 10 | pastoral |
epf-001424 | Dar’s a lazy, sortah hazy
Feelin’ grips me, thoo an’ thoo;
An’ I feels lak doin’ less dan enythin’;
Dough de saw is sharp an’ greasy,
Dough de task et han’ is easy,
An’ de day am fair an’ breezy,
Dar’s a thief dat steals embition in de win’.
Kaint defy it, kaint deny it,
Kaze it jes won’t be denied;
It’s a mos’ pursis... | Sprin’ Fevah | Raymond Garfield Dandridge | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000956 | Vigil strange I kept on the field one night;
When you my son and my comrade dropt at my side that day,
One look I but gave which your dear eyes return’d with a look I shall never forget,
One touch of your hand to mine O boy, reach’d up as you lay on the ground,
Then onward I sped in the battle, the even-contested battl... | Vigil Strange I Kept on the Field one Night | Walt Whitman | 5 | free verse |
epf-001025 | A message from her set his brain aflame.
A world of household matters filled her mind,
Wherein he saw hypocrisy designed:
She treated him as something that is tame,
And but at other provocation bites.
Familiar was her shoulder in the glass,
Through that dark rain: yet it may come to pass
That a changed eye finds such f... | Modern Love: V | George Meredith | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000711 | King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed:
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
Valour and lo... | The Glove and the Lions | Leigh Hunt | 2 | common measure |
epf-000541 | Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thine—thy own sweet smiles I see,
The same that oft in childhood solaced me;
Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say,
"Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
The meek intelligence of those dear e... | On Receipt Of My Mother's Picture | William Cowper | 4 | elegy |
epf-000976 | I
The evening comes, the fields are still.
The tinkle of the thirsty rill,
Unheard all day, ascends again;
Deserted is the half-mown plain,
Silent the swaths! the ringing wain,
The mower's cry, the dog's alarms,
All housed within the sleeping farms!
The business of the day is done,
The last-left haymaker is gone.
And f... | Bacchanalia | Matthew Arnold | 1 | couplet |
epf-000765 | O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish... | La Belle Dame sans Merci: A Ballad | John Keats | 3 | ballad |
epf-001246 | Pray why are you so bare, so bare,
Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
Runs a shudder over me?
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,
And sap ran free in my veins,
But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird
A guiltless victim's pains.
I bent me down to hear his ... | The Haunted Oak | Paul Laurence Dunbar | 2 | common measure |
epf-000586 | Pavement slipp’ry, people sneezing,
Lords in ermine, beggars freezing;
Titled gluttons dainties carving,
Genius in a garret starving.
Lofty mansions, warm and spacious;
Courtiers cringing and voracious;
Misers scarce the wretched heeding;
Gallant soldiers fighting, bleeding.
Wives who laugh at passive spouses;
Theatr... | January, 1795 | Mary Robinson | 1 | couplet |
epf-000525 | FLAVIA. THE wretched FLAVIA on her couch reclin'd,
Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind ;
A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore,
For now she shun'd the face she sought before.
' How am I chang'd ! alas ! how am I grown
' A frightful spectre, to myself unknown !
' Where's my Complexion ? where the radiant ... | Town Eclogues: Saturday; The Small-Pox | Lady Mary Wortley Montagu | 1 | couplet |
epf-000716 | So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the... | So We'll Go No More a Roving | Lord Byron (George Gordon) | 2 | common measure |
epf-001217 | A woof reversed the fatal shuttles weave,
How slow! but never once they slip the thread.
Hither, upon the Georgian idler’s tread,
Up spacious ways the lindens interleave,
Clouding the royal air since yester-eve,
Come men bereft of time and scant of bread,
Loud, who were dumb, immortal, who were dead,
Thro’ the cowed wo... | Strikers in Hyde Park | Louise Imogen Guiney | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000067 | Antony speaks at Caesar’s funeral
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears.
I have come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interrèd with their bones.
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious.
If it were so, it was a griev... | Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene II [Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears] | William Shakespeare | 8 | dramatic monologue |
epf-000839 | The birds against the April wind
Flew northward, singing as they flew;
They sang, “The land we leave behind
Has swords for corn-blades, blood for dew.”
“O wild-birds, flying from the South,
What saw and heard ye, gazing down?”
“We saw the mortar’s upturned mouth,
The sickened camp, the blazing town!
“Beneath the ... | What the Birds Said | John Greenleaf Whittier | 3 | ballad |
epf-000028 | Like as a huntsman after weary chase,
Seeing the game from him escap'd away,
Sits down to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds beguiled of their prey:
So after long pursuit and vain assay,
When I all weary had the chase forsook,
The gentle deer return'd the self-same way,
Thinking to quench her thirst at t... | Amoretti LXVII: Like as a Huntsman | Edmund Spenser | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000209 | As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase;
Without this, folly, age and cold decay:
If all were minded so, the times s... | As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest (Sonnet 11) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000275 | The welcome Sun from sea Freake is returned,
And cheereth with his beams the naked earth,
Which gains with his coming her apparel
And had his absence six long months mourned.
Out of her fragrant sides she sends to greet him
The rashed primrose and the violet;
While she the fields and meadows doth beset
With flow... | Book 1, Epigram 34: Ad. Thomam Freake armig. de veris adventu. | Thomas Bastard | 1 | couplet |
epf-000888 | If all the trees in all the woods were men;
And each and every blade of grass a pen;
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,
And for ten thousand ages, day and night,
The human race shoul... | Cacoethes Scribendi | Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. | 1 | couplet |
epf-001377 | The tremulously mirrored clouds lie deep,
Enchanted towers bosomed in the stream,
And blossomed coronals of white-thorn gleam
Within the water where the willows sleep—
Still-imaged willow-leaves whose shadows steep
The far-reflected sky in dark of dream;
And glimpsed therein the sun-winged swallows seem
As fleeting mem... | Imagery | Archibald MacLeish | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000814 | I lived with visions for my company,
Instead of men and women, years ago,
And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
A sweeter music than they played to me.
But soon their trailing purple was not free
Of this world's dust, — their lutes did silent grow,
And I myself grew faint and blind below
Their vanishing eyes... | Sonnets from the Portuguese 26: I lived with visions for my company | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 0 | sonnet |
epf-001208 | I have had my invitation to this world’s festival, and thus my life has been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.
It was my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I have done all I could.
Now, I ask, has the time come at last when I may go in and see thy face and offer thee my silent salutat... | Gitanjali 16 | Rabindranath Tagore | 9 | prose poem |
epf-000887 | Not in the world of light alone,
Where God has built his blazing throne,
Nor yet alone in earth below,
With belted seas that come and go,
And endless isles of sunlit green,
Is all thy Maker’s glory seen:
Look in upon thy wondrous frame,—
Eternal wisdom still the same!
The smooth, soft air with pulse-like waves
Flows m... | The Living Temple | Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. | 1 | couplet |
epf-000804 | Beloved, my Beloved, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
What time I sate alone here in the snow
And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink
No moment at thy voice ... but, link by link,
Went counting all my chains, as if that so
They never could fall off at any blow
Struck by thy possible hand ... wh... | Beloved, my Beloved... (Sonnet 20) | Elizabeth Barrett Browning | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000074 | O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time’s fickle glass, his sickle, hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show’st
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow’st.
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her sk... | O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power (Sonnet 126) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
epf-000959 | A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measurel... | A Noiseless Patient Spider | Walt Whitman | 5 | free verse |
epf-000599 | Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, ... | Afton Water | Robert Burns | 1 | couplet |
epf-000325 | Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.
Seven years tho' wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I lose all father now! For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage,
And if ... | On my First Son | Ben Jonson | 1 | couplet |
epf-000524 | CARDELIA. THE bassette-table spread, the tallier come,
Why stays SMILINDA in the dressing-room ?
Rise, pensive nymph ! the tallier stays for you.
SMILINDA. Ah ! Madam, since my SHARPER is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd alpieu.
I saw him stand behind OMBRELIA's Chair,
And whisper with that soft deluding air,
And... | Town Eclogues: Thursday; the Bassette-Table | Lady Mary Wortley Montagu | 1 | couplet |
epf-000461 | I saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov’d; in which the world
And all her train were hurl’d.
The doting lover in his quaintest strain
Did there ... | The World | Henry Vaughan | 1 | couplet |
epf-000186 | Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits,
When I am sometime absent from thy heart,
Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,
For still temptation follows where thou art.
Gentle thou art and therefore to be won,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed;
And when a woman woos, what woman’s son
Will sourly leave her... | Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits (Sonnet 41) | William Shakespeare | 0 | sonnet |
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