Category Archives: Poetry

Precious the bounteous widow’s mite; And precious, for extreme delight, The largesse from the churl: Precious the ruby’s blushing blaze, And alba’s blest imperial rays, And pure cerulean pearl. Precious the pentitential tear … Christopher Smart, ‘A Song to David’ … Continue reading →

Whether on earth, in air, or main, Sure ev’ry thing alive is vain! Does not the hawk all fowls survey, As destin’d only for his prey? And do not tyrants, prouder things, Think men were born for slaves to kings? … Continue reading →

An infant when it gazes on a light, A child the moment when it drains the breast, A devotee when soars the Host in sight, An Arab with a stranger for a guest, A sailor when the prize has struck … Continue reading →

Malignant tyrants! with vindictive ire, The ocean heaving as your steps retire, You trace the bark along the yielding main, And smile, indignant – where your power was vain. Hence, like the lightning’s flash, you rapid sweep O’er the wild … Continue reading →

I looked and saw your eyes In the shadow of your hair, As a traveller sees the stream In the shadow of the wood; And I said, “My faint heart sighs, Ah me! to linger there, To drink deep and … Continue reading →

And yet our lot is given us in a land Where busy arts are never at a stand; Where science points her telescopic eye, Familiar with the wonders of the sky; Where bold inquiry, diving out of sight, Brings many … Continue reading →

Here are no entrapping baits To hasten to too hasty fates; Unless it be The fond credulity Of silly fish, which (worldling like) still look Upon the bait, but never on the hook; Nor envy, ‘less among The birds, for … Continue reading →

Down mildest shores of milk-white sand, By cape and fair Floridian bay, Twixt billowy pines — a surf asleep on land — And the great Gulf at play, Past far-off palms that filmed to nought, Or in and out the … Continue reading →

His long hair was nine cubits’ span and coloured like that yellow gem Which hidden in their garment’s hem the merchants bring from Kurdistan. His face was as the must that lies upon a vat of new-made wine: The seas … Continue reading →

I took the left, and for some cause unknown Full fraught of hope and joy the way pursued, Yet chose strong reasons speeding up alone To fortify me ‘gainst a shock more rude. E’en so the diver carrieth down a … Continue reading →