121 Classic Poems

It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, And with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand Caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often ’tis in such gentle temper found, That scarcely will the very smallest shell Be moved for days from where it sometime fell, When last the winds […]

The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion: Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law divine In one another’s being mingle—Why not I with thine? See the mountains kiss high heaven And the waves clasp one

O World! O Life! O Time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more—Oh, never more! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight: Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar Move my faint heart with

I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert …Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter feeling, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence- stricken multitudes: 0 thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each

The flower that smiles today Tomorrow dies; All that we wish to stay, Tempts and then files. What is this world’s delight? Lightning that mocks the night, Brief even as bright. Virtue, how frail it is! Friendship how rare! Love, how it sells poor bliss For proud despair! But we, though soon they fall, Survive

When did my childhood go? Was it the day I ceased to be eleven. Was it the time I realized that Hell and Heaven, Could not be found in Geography, And therefore could not be, Was that the day! When did my childhood go? Was it the time I realized that adults were not All

Once upon a time, son They used to laugh with their hearts And laugh with their eyes; But now they only laugh with their teeth. While their ice block cold eyes, Search behind my shadow. There was a time indeed They used to shake hands with their hearts; But now they shake hands without hearts

There is a change—and I am poor; Your love hath been, nor long ago, A fountain at my fond heart’s door, Whose only business was to flow; And flow it did; not taking heed Of its own bounty, or my need. What happy moments did I count! Blest was I then all bliss above! Now,

Lo! where the Moon along The sky sails with her happy destiny; Oft is she hid from mortal eye or dimly seen, But when the clouds asunder fly how bright her mien! Far different we—a forward race, thousands though Rich in Fortune’s grace With cherished sullenness of pace Their way pursue, Ingrates who wear a

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This sea that bares her bosom to the moon, The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are

I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sat reclined; In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts, Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link, The human soul that through me ran; And much is grieved my heart to think, What man has made of man? The

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

My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound

She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove. A Maid whom there were none of praise And very few to love; A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When