Sydney Thompson Dobell

(1824-1874 / England)

Sydney Thompson Dobell Poems

1. On The Death Of Mrs. Browning 1/1/2004
2. To Professor And Mrs. J.S. Blackie 4/12/2010
3. Voxpopuli 4/12/2010
4. Laus Deo 1/1/2004
5. In War-Time: An Aspiration Of The Spirit 4/12/2010
6. Isabel 4/12/2010
7. Epitaph Ii 4/12/2010
8. For Charity's Sake 4/12/2010
9. Good-Night In War-Time 4/12/2010
10. He Is Safe 4/12/2010
11. On Love And Beauty: I: To A Promessa Sposa 4/12/2010
12. To The Authoress Of 4/12/2010
13. Sleeping And Waking 4/12/2010
14. The Army Surgeon 4/12/2010
15. To James Y. Simpson 4/12/2010
16. To A Friend In Bereavement 4/12/2010
17. To A Cathedral Tower: On The Evening Of The Thirty-Fifth Anniversay Of Waterloo 4/12/2010
18. To James H. 4/12/2010
19. To The Tiber 4/12/2010
20. Where Are You Poets? 4/12/2010
21. Woe Is Me 4/12/2010
22. On Receiving A Book From 4/12/2010
23. Samuel Brown 4/12/2010
24. Jerusalem 4/12/2010
25. Grass From The Battle-Field 4/12/2010
26. John Bohun Martin 4/12/2010
27. I: In A Great House By The Sea I Sat 4/12/2010
28. On A Recently Finished Statue 4/12/2010
29. Epitaph I 4/12/2010
30. Return! 1/1/2004
31. To The Same 4/12/2010
32. On Receiving A Book From Dante Rossetti 4/12/2010
33. Ii: And As I Mused On All We Call Our Own 4/12/2010
34. In War-Time A Psalm Of The Heart 4/12/2010
35. He Loves And He Rides Away 4/12/2010
36. Esse Et Posse 4/12/2010
37. In War-Time: A Prayer Of The Understanding 4/12/2010
38. How’s My Boy? 1/1/2004
39. When The Rain Is On The Roof 4/12/2010
40. Home, Wounded 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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