Charles Lamb

(10 February 1775 – 27 December 1834 / London)

Charles Lamb Poems

1. A Vision Of Repentance 4/10/2010
2. Anger 4/10/2010
3. The Old Familiar Faces 1/4/2003
4. Blindness 4/10/2010
5. Beauty And The Beast 4/10/2010
6. On An Infant Dying As Soon As Born 1/4/2003
7. Crumbs To The Birds 4/10/2010
8. A Timid Grace Sits Trembling In Her Eye 1/1/2004
9. Charity 4/10/2010
10. Choosing A Name 4/10/2010
11. Breakfast 4/10/2010
12. As When A Child... 4/10/2010
13. Cleanliness 4/10/2010
14. A Farewell To Tobacco 4/10/2010
15. The Boy And The Snake 4/10/2010
16. The Spartan Boy 4/10/2010
17. Choosing A Profession 4/10/2010
18. Clock Striking 4/10/2010
19. A Ballad 4/10/2010
20. A Dramatic Fragment 4/10/2010
21. Eyes 4/10/2010
22. Hester 1/4/2003
23. David 4/10/2010
24. Beauty's Song 4/10/2010
25. The Beggar-Man 4/10/2010
26. The Journey From School And To School 4/10/2010
27. Envy 4/10/2010
28. A Parody 4/10/2010
29. Epigram 4/10/2010
30. Conquest Of Prejudice 4/10/2010
31. The Dessert 4/10/2010
32. Discontent And Quarrelling 4/10/2010
33. Sonnet Viii 4/10/2010
34. Living Without God In The World 4/10/2010
35. David In The Cave Of Adullam 4/10/2010
36. On The Sight Of Swans In Kensington Gardens 1/1/2004
37. The First Tooth 4/10/2010
38. Suffer Little Children, And Forbid Them Not, To Come Unto Me 4/10/2010
39. The Reproof 4/10/2010
40. The Reaper's Child 4/10/2010
Best Poem of Charles Lamb

A Vision Of Repentance

I saw a famous fountain, in my dream,
Where shady path-ways to a valley led;
A weeping willow lay upon that stream,
And all around the fountain brink were spread
Wide branching trees, with dark green leaf rich clad,
Forming a doubtful twilight-desolate and sad.


The place was such, that whoso enter'd in,
Disrobed was of every earthly thought,
And straight became as one that knew not sin,
Or to the world's first innocence was brought;
Enseem'd it now, he stood on holy ground,
In sweet and tender melancholy wrapt around.


A most strange calm ...

Read the full of A Vision Of Repentance

Hester

WHEN maidens such as Hester die
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try
   With vain endeavour.

A month or more hath she been dead,
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
   And her together.

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