Sydney Thompson Dobell

(1824-1874 / England)

Sydney Thompson Dobell Poems

1. Dante, Shakespeare, Milton - From 1/1/2004
2. America 1/1/2004
3. An Autumn Mood 4/12/2010
4. Childless 4/12/2010
5. Tommy's Dead 1/1/2004
6. A Statesman 4/12/2010
7. Cavalry Charge At Balaclava 4/12/2010
8. Alone 4/12/2010
9. Afloat And Ashore 4/12/2010
10. Czar Nicholas 4/12/2010
11. Bayonet Song 4/12/2010
12. At The Grave Of A Spanish Friend 4/12/2010
13. Ballad 4/12/2010
14. Dead-Maid's-Pool 4/12/2010
15. A Hero's Grave 4/12/2010
16. A Nupial Eve (Excerpt) 1/1/2004
17. She Touches A Sad String Of Soft Recall 4/12/2010
18. Austrian Alliance 4/12/2010
19. Love: To A Little Girl 4/12/2010
20. An Evening Dream 4/12/2010
21. Daft Jean 4/12/2010
22. Mentana 4/12/2010
23. Deprecating A Gift 4/12/2010
24. A Musing On A Victory 4/12/2010
25. Lord Robert 4/12/2010
26. A Shower In War-Time 4/12/2010
27. Crazed 4/12/2010
28. To 1862 4/12/2010
29. A Health To The Queen 4/12/2010
30. Dedicatory 4/12/2010
31. Farewell 4/12/2010
32. Love And Beauty: Iii: To A Fair Woman, Unsatisfied With Woman's Work 4/12/2010
33. A Chanted Calendar 1/1/2004
34. The Common Grave 4/12/2010
35. The Mother's Lesson 4/12/2010
36. The Milkmaid's Song 4/12/2010
37. Song Of A Mad Girl, Whose Lover Has Died At Sea 4/12/2010
38. Home In War-Time 1/1/2004
39. On Reading A Dictacted Letter 4/12/2010
40. The Widow's Lullaby 4/12/2010
Best Poem of Sydney Thompson Dobell

Dante, Shakespeare, Milton - From

Doctor. Ah! thou, too,
Sad Alighieri, like a waning moon
Setting in storm behind a grove of bays!
Balder. Yes, the great Florentine, who wove his web
And thrust it into hell, and drew it forth
Immortal, having burn’d all that could burn,
And leaving only what shall still be found
Untouch’d, nor with the small of fire upon it,
Under the final ashes of this world.
Doctor. Shakespeare and Milton!
Balder. Switzerland and home.
I ne’er see Milton, but I see the Alps,
As once, sole standing on a peak supreme,
To the ...

Read the full of Dante, Shakespeare, Milton - From

Tommy's Dead

YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.

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