Members Who Read Most Number Of Poems

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Classical Poems

Title Poet
Written at an Inn at Henley
To thee, fair Freedom! I retire,
From flattery, cards, and dice, and din;
William Shenstone poet by William Shenstone
on 1/3/2003
Written At Bath To A Young Lady
You us'd me ill, and I withdrew,
Intent on satirizing you.
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written At Bracknell
Thy dewy looks sink in my breast;
Thy gentle words stir poison there;
Percy Bysshe Shelley poet by Percy Bysshe Shelley
on 4/1/2010
Written At Camberwell, Near London, In The Study Of Mr. Wa..
Whilst happily I pass my Hours
In Camberwell's delightful Bow'rs;
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written At Dr. Mead's House In Ormond--Street, To Mrs. Mead.
Books, Pictures, Statues, here we find,
And each excelling in their Kind.
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written at Dropmore
Grenville, to thee my gratitude is due
For many an hour of studious musing here,
Samuel Rogers poet by Samuel Rogers
on 9/3/2010
Written at Florence
O WORLD, in very truth thou art too young;
When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age?
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt poet by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
on 1/4/2003
Written at Lovere, 1755
Wisdom, slow product of laborious years,
The only fruit that life's cold winter bears;
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu poet by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
on 1/3/2003
Written at Lovere, October, 1736
If age and sickness, poverty and pain,
Should each assault me with alternate plagues,
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu poet by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
on 1/3/2003
Written at Midnight
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs,
And my step falters on the faithless floor,
Samuel Rogers poet by Samuel Rogers
on 9/3/2010
Written At Mycenae
I saw a weird procession glide along
The vestibule before the
Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton poet by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton
on 10/5/2010
Written At Paris, 1700. In The Beginning Of Robe's Geography
Of all that William rules, or robe
Describes, great Rhea, of thy globe,
Matthew Prior poet by Matthew Prior
on 4/19/2010
Written At Schwytz
'Twas not satiety—disgust—
That led a wanderer forth to roam,
John Kenyon poet by John Kenyon
on 10/12/2010
Written At Sea
What is my quarrel with thee, beautiful sea,
That thus I cannot love thy waves or thee,
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt poet by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
on 4/13/2010
Written at Stonehenge
Thou noblest monument of Albion's isle!
Whether by Merlin's aid, from Scythia's shore,
Thomas Warton Jr. poet by Thomas Warton Jr.
on 1/1/2004
Written at the Request of a Gentleman to Whom a Lady Had G..
What hopes - what terrors does this gift create?
Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
Samuel Johnson poet by Samuel Johnson
on 4/7/2010
Written At Trenton Falls
Come down! from where the everlasting hills
Open their rocky gates to let thee pass,
Frances Anne Kemble poet by Frances Anne Kemble
on 9/6/2010
Written at Tunbridge--Wells
These Plains, so joyous once to me,
Now sadly chang'd appear:
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written At Tunbridge—Wells, To The Right Honourable The La..
Faint--Fair, and act a Play.
In some few Hours we must repair,
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written Before Re-Reading King Lear
O golden-tongued Romance with serene lute!
Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!
John Keats poet by John Keats
on 1/13/2003
Written Christmas Day 1797
I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone!
Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend,
Charles Lamb poet by Charles Lamb
on 4/10/2010
Written For A Gentlewoman In Distress, To Her Grace Adelid..
Might I inquire the Reasons of my Fate,
Or with my Maker dare expostulate;
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written for a Musician
Hungry for music with a desperate hunger
I prowled abroad, I threaded through the town;
Vachel Lindsay poet by Vachel Lindsay
on 1/3/2003
Written For My Son
When Athens was for Arts and Arms renown'd,
Olympic Wreaths uncommon Merit crown'd.
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written for my Son ... at his First Putting on Breeches
WHAT is it our mamma's bewitches,
To plague us little boys with breeches ?
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 5/8/2001
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