Imágenes de páginas

Treasure Trove

Forty Famous Poems
by various authors.....

Compiled by





[ocr errors]

ON HIS BLINDNESS. When I consider how my light was spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide,Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? I fondly ask:—But Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies: God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts: who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed And post o'er land and ocean without rest:They also serve who only stand and wait.

- John Milton

Blow, blow, thou winter wind!
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen,

Altho thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly!
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly;

Then heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly!
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot;
Tho' thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remember'd not.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly!
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly;

Then, heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly

- William Shakespeare.



By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood,

And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;

Alike the conquerer silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept,

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We set today a votive stone ;
That memory may their deed redeem,

When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
Spirit, that made those heroes dare

To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

–Ralph Waldo Emerson.


Choose me your Valentine!

Next, let us marry!
Love to the death will pine

If we long tarry.
Promise and keep your vows,

Or vow you never!
Love's doctrine disallows

Troth-breakers ever.

You have broke promise twice,

Dear, to undo ine.
If you prove faithless thrice,
None then will woo ye.

-Robert Herrick.

She stood breast high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the Sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
On the cheek an autumn flush
Deeply ripened; such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.
Round her eyes her tresses fell, -
Which were blackest none could tell;
But long lashes veiled a light
That had else been all to bright.
And her hat with shady brim
Made her tressy forehead dim:
Thus she stood amid the stooks,
Praising God with sweetest looks.
Sure, I said, heaven did not mean
Where I reap thou shouldst but glean:
Lay thy sheaf adown, and come!
Share my harvest and my home!

- Thomas Hood.

« AnteriorContinuar »