Thomas Bailey Aldrich

(November 11, 1836 – March 19, 1907 / Portsmouth, New Hampshire)

Thomas Bailey Aldrich Poems

1. Latakia 4/8/2010
2. Quatrains 4/8/2010
3. Elmwood 4/8/2010
4. Sargent's Portrait Of Edwin Booth 1/3/2003
5. The Undiscovered Country 1/3/2003
6. Pauline Pavlovna 1/3/2003
7. Like Crusoe, Walking By The Lonely Strand 1/3/2003
8. The Last Caesar 1/3/2003
9. Enamored Architect Of Airy Rhyme 1/3/2003
10. No Songs In Winter 1/3/2003
11. Henry Howard Brownell 1/3/2003
12. Reminiscence 1/3/2003
13. Pursuit And Possession 1/3/2003
14. Sonnets 4/8/2010
15. L'Eau Dormante 1/3/2003
16. Piscataqua River 4/8/2010
17. I Vex Me Not With Brooding On The Years 1/3/2003
18. Eidolons 1/3/2003
19. Sleep 1/3/2003
20. Sweetheart, Sigh No More 4/8/2010
21. England 4/8/2010
22. Kriss Kringle 4/8/2010
23. When The Sultan Goes To Ispahan 4/8/2010
24. To Hafiz 4/8/2010
25. Prescience 4/8/2010
26. Ellen Terry In The Merchant Of Venice 1/3/2003
27. Pillared Arch And Sculptured Tower 1/3/2003
28. The Shipman's Tale 1/3/2003
29. The Rarity Of Genius 1/3/2003
30. Outward Bound 1/3/2003
31. On Reading William Watson's Sonnet Entitled The Purple East 1/3/2003
32. Sea Longings 4/8/2010
33. Threnody 1/3/2003
34. The Poets 1/3/2003
35. In Westminster Abbey 1/3/2003
36. Miracles 1/3/2003
37. Thalia 1/3/2003
38. Thorwaldsen 1/3/2003
39. Fredericksburg 1/3/2003
40. The Flight Of The Goddess 4/8/2010
Best Poem of Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Andromeda

The smooth-worn coin and threadbare classic phrase
Of Grecian myths that did beguile my youth,
Beguile me not as in the olden days:
I think more grief and beauty dwell with truth.
Andromeda, in fetters by the sea,
Star-pale with anguish till young Perseus came,
Less moves me with her suffering than she,
The slim girl figure fettered to dark shame,
That nightly haunts the park, there, like a shade,
Trailing her wretchedness from street to street.
See where she passes -- neither wife nor maid;
How all mere fiction crumbles at her feet!
Here is ...

Read the full of Andromeda

Act V

[MIDNIGHT.]

First, two white arms that held him very close,
And ever closer as he drew him back
Reluctantly, the loose gold-colored hair
A thousand delicate fibers reaching out
Still to detain him; then some twenty steps
Of iron staircse winding round and down,
And ending in a narrow gallery hung

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