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Classical Poems

Title Poet
Written in Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sat reclined,
William Wordsworth poet by William Wordsworth
on 1/3/2003
Written In Early Youth. The Time,--An Autumnal Evening
O thou wild fancy, check thy wing! No more
Those thin white flakes, those purple clouds explore!
Samuel Taylor Coleridge poet by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
on 3/31/2010
Written in Germany, On One of The Coldest Days Of The Cent..
A plague on your languages, German and Norse!
Let me have the song of the kettle;
William Wordsworth poet by William Wordsworth
on 12/31/2002
Written in her French Psalter
No crooked leg, no bleared eye,
No part deformed out of kind,
Queen Elizabeth I poet by Queen Elizabeth I
on 5/17/2001
Written In Juice Of Lemon
Whilst what I write I do not see,
I dare thus, ev'n to you, write poetry.
Abraham Cowley poet by Abraham Cowley
on 2/24/2014
Written in July
Grey, thou hast served, and well, the sacred Cause
That Hampden, Sydney died for. Thou hast stood,
Samuel Rogers poet by Samuel Rogers
on 9/3/2010
Written in London. September, 1802
. O Friend! I know not which way I must look
For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
William Wordsworth poet by William Wordsworth
on 1/1/2004
Written in March
The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
William Wordsworth poet by William Wordsworth
on 1/3/2003
Written in Milton's PARADISE LOST.
Had I, O had I all the tuneful Arts
Of lofty Verse; did ev'ry Muse inspire
Mather Byles poet by Mather Byles
on 9/27/2010
Written In Montaignes Essays. Given To The Duke Of Shrewsb..
Dictate, O mighty judge, what thou hast seen
Of cities and of courts, of books and men,
Matthew Prior poet by Matthew Prior
on 4/19/2010
Written in Northampton County Asylum
I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
John Clare poet by John Clare
on 1/3/2003
Written In Petrarch’s House At Arqua, Among The Euganean H..
Petrarch! I would that there might be
In this thy household sanctuary
Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton poet by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton
on 10/5/2010
Written In Richmond
Thames swept along in summer pride,
Sparkling beneath his verdant edge;
John Kenyon poet by John Kenyon
on 10/12/2010
Written In The Beginning Of Mezeray's History Of France
Whate'er thy countrymen have done
By law and wit, by sword and gun,
Matthew Prior poet by Matthew Prior
on 4/19/2010
Written in the Cloisters of Christ's-Hospital in London.
Now cease the sad complaining strain,
Now hush'd be PITY'S tender sigh,
George Dyer poet by George Dyer
on 4/9/2012
Written In The Conclusion Of A Letter To Mr. Tickel,
Eternal King, is there one Hour,
To make me greatly bless'd?
Mary Barber poet by Mary Barber
on 4/20/2010
Written In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born
This mortal body of a thousand days
Now fills, O Burns, a space in thine own room,
John Keats poet by John Keats
on 3/23/2010
Written In The First Leaf Of A Child's Memorandum-Book
My neat and pretty book, when I thy small lines see
They seem for any use to be unfit for me.
Charles Lamb poet by Charles Lamb
on 4/10/2010
Written in the Highlands of Scotland
Blue was the loch, the clouds were gone,
Ben-Lomond in his glory shone,
Samuel Rogers poet by Samuel Rogers
on 9/3/2010
Written In The Isle Of Thanet
The bard, who paints from rural plains,
Must oft himself the void supply
Robert Bloomfield poet by Robert Bloomfield
on 9/20/2010
Written In The Mountains Of The Tyrol
A Heart the world of men had bound and sealed
With shameful stamp and miserable chain,
Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton poet by Richard Monckton Milnes Houghton
on 10/5/2010
Written In The Nouveaux Interests Des Princes De L'Europe
Bless'd be the princes who have fought
For pompous names or wide dominion,
Matthew Prior poet by Matthew Prior
on 4/19/2010
Written In The Season Of Fear
Those birds who want to try their wings against the odds of nature
who want to explore the working of the wind
Iftikhar Arif poet by Iftikhar Arif
on 2/8/2010
Written In The Year 1779, When The Combined
When the keen axe remorseless laid
The woods of Edgecombe low,
Henry James Pye poet by Henry James Pye
on 9/27/2010
Written In Very Early Youth
CALM is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
William Wordsworth poet by William Wordsworth
on 4/5/2010
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