Charles Kingsley

(12 June 1819 – 23 January 1875 / Devon, England)

Charles Kingsley Poems

1. The Song Of The Little Baltung: A.D. 395 4/15/2010
2. The Watchman 4/15/2010
3. The World's Age 4/15/2010
4. In An Illuminated Missal 4/15/2010
5. To Miss Mitford: Authoress Of 4/15/2010
6. The Oubit 4/15/2010
7. Sonnet 4/15/2010
8. The Priest's Heart 4/15/2010
9. Trehill Well 4/15/2010
10. The Mango-Tree 4/15/2010
11. The Day Of The Lord 4/15/2010
12. Qu'Est Qu'Il Dit' 4/15/2010
13. On The Death Of A Certain Journal 4/15/2010
14. Old And New: A Parable 4/15/2010
15. Saint Maura: A.D. 304 4/15/2010
16. Margaret To Dolcino 4/15/2010
17. Pen-Y-Gwrydd: To Tom Hughes, Esq., 4/15/2010
18. Hymn 4/15/2010
19. Hypotheses Hypochondriacae 4/15/2010
20. Scotch Song 4/15/2010
21. The Outlaw 4/15/2010
22. To G.A.G. 4/15/2010
23. Sappho 4/15/2010
24. The Young Knight: A Parable 4/15/2010
25. My Hunting Song 4/15/2010
26. The Knight's Leap: A Legend Of Altenar 4/15/2010
27. The Delectable Day 4/15/2010
28. The South Wind: A Fisherman's Blessing 4/15/2010
29. Martin Lightfoot's Song 4/15/2010
30. Sing Heigh-Ho! 4/15/2010
31. Frank Leigh's Song: A.D. 1586 4/15/2010
32. A Thought From The Rhine 4/15/2010
33. The Weird Lady 4/15/2010
34. Palinodia 4/15/2010
35. The Swan-Neck 4/15/2010
36. The Red King 4/15/2010
37. Fishing Song: To J.A. Froude And Tom Hughes 4/15/2010
38. Ode On The Istallation Of The Duke Of Devonshire 4/15/2010
39. The Bad Squire 4/15/2010
40. The Longbeard's Saga: A.D. 400 4/15/2010
Best Poem of Charles Kingsley

A Farewell

I

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey:
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

II

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever
One grand, sweet song.

Read the full of A Farewell

Lorraine

“ARE you ready for your steeplechase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree?
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.
You’re booked to ride your capping race to-day at Coulterlee,
You’re booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see,
To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the run for me.”
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

She clasp’d her newborn baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe,
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

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