Category: English poetry
-

“Sonnet 18— Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day?” by William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? (Sonnet 18) by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Image Source: Wikipedia.org
-

“To My Dear and Loving Husband” by Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672)
“Thy love is such I can no way repay; The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.”
-

“Before the Birth of One of her Children” by Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672)
“…And if thou love thyself, or loved’st me, These O protect from stepdame’s injury. And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse, With some sad sighs honor my absent hearse;…”
-

Poem: “Traveling” by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850)
And no one can tell whither.—my sweet friend! We two have had such happy hours together That my heart melts in me to think of it.
-

Poem: “The Star” by Jane Taylor
When the blazing sun is set, And the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
-

“He Who Serves” by Edgar Albert Guest
He has not served who gathers gold, Nor has he served, whose life is told In selfish battles he has won, Or deeds of skill that he has done; But he has served who now and then Has helped along his fellow men. The world needs many men today; Red-blooded men along life’s way, With…
-

“The Lamb” by William Blake
Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Gave thee life, and bid thee feed, By the stream and o’er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made…
-

“Things Work Out” by Edgar Albert Guest
Because it rains when we wish it wouldn’t, Because men do what they often shouldn’t, Because crops fail, and plans go wrong- Some of us grumble all day long. But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt, It seems at last that things work out. Because we lose where we hoped to gain, Because…
-

“A Thousand Martyrs I Have Made” by Aphra Behn
A THOUSAND Martyrs I have made, All sacrific’d to my desire; A thousand Beauties have betray’d, That languish in resistless Fire. The untam’d Heart to hand I brought, And fixt the wild and wandring Thought. I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vain But both, thô false, were well receiv’d. The Fair are pleas’d to give…
-

“A Poison Tree” by William Blake
“A Poison Tree” by William Blake…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…