Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Sunset
The weary wind is slumbering on the wing:Leaping from out meek twilight's purpling blueBurns the proud star of eve as though it knewIt was the big..
© Arthur Bayldon
An Old Bush Road
Dear old road, wheel-worn and broken, Winding thro' the forest green,Barred with shadow and with sunshine, Misty vistas drawn between.Grim..
© Arthur Bayldon
Night-Silence
The patient stars are shining large and clear;The crescent moon hangs like a tilted bowl;So calm, so still, that I can almost hearThoughts stirring..
© Arthur Bayldon
A Woman's Mood
I think to-night I could bear it all, Even the arrow that cleft the core, --Could I wait again for your swift footfall, And your sunny face..
© Arthur Bayldon
The Examination Of His Mistress's Perfections
Stand still my happiness, and swelling heartNo more, till I consider what thou art.Desire of knowledge was man's fatal vice,For when our parents were..
© Francis Beaumont
A Funeral Elegy On The Death Of The Lady Penelope Clifton
Since thou art dead, Clifton, the world may seeA certain end of flesh and blood in thee;Till then a way was left for man to cry,Flesh may be made so..
© Francis Beaumont
To My Friend Mr. John Fletcher, Upon His Faithful Sheperdess
I know too well, that, no more than the man,That travels through the burning desarts, can,When he is beaten with the raging sun,Half-smother'd with..
© Francis Beaumont
To My Friend M. Ben Jonson, Upon His Catiline
If thou hadst itch'd after the wild applauseOf common people, and hadst made thy lawsIn writing such as catch'd at present voice,I should commend the..
© Francis Beaumont
Upon The Silent Woman
Hear, you bad writers, and though you not see,I will inform you where you happy be:Provide the most malicious thoughts you can,And bend them all..
© Francis Beaumont
To My Dear Friend M. Ben Jonson, On His Fox
If it might stand with justice to allowThe swift conversion of all follies; now,Such is my mercy, that I could admitAll sorts should equally approve..
© Francis Beaumont
The Conclusion
Sleep not too much; nor longer than asleepWithin thy bed thy lazy body keep;For when thou, warm awake, shall feel it soft,Fond cogitations will..
© Francis Beaumont
The Remedy Of Love
When Cupid read this title, straight he said,'Wars, I perceive, against me will be made.'But spare, oh Love! to tax thy poet so,Who oft bath borne..
© Francis Beaumont
In Laudem Authoris.
Like to the weake estate of a poore friend,To whom sweet fortune hath bene euer slow,VVhich dayly doth that happy howre attend,VVhen his poore state..
© Francis Beaumont
The Glance
Cold Virtue guard me, or I shall endureFrom the next glance a double calentureOf fire and lust! Two flames, two Semeles,Dwell in those eyes, whose..
© Francis Beaumont
Ad Comitissam Rutlandiæ
Madam, so may my verses pleasing be,So may you laugh at them and not at me,'Tis something to you gladly I would say;But how to do't I cannot find the..
© Francis Beaumont
An Elegy On The Lady Markham
As unthrifts groan in straw for their pawn'd beds,As women weep for their lost maidenheads,When both are without hope or remedy,Such an untimely..
© Francis Beaumont
To The True Patroness Of All Poetry, Calliope
It is a statute in deep wisdom's lore,That for his lines none should a patron chuseBy wealth and poverty, by less or more,But who the same is able to..
© Francis Beaumont
To The True Patronesse Of All Poetrie
IT is a statute in deepe wisdomes lore,That for his lines none should a patro[n] chuseBy wealth or pouerty, by lesse or more,But who the same is able..
© Francis Beaumont
Fie On Love
Now fie on foolish love, it not befitsOr man or woman know it.Love was not meant for people in their wits,And they that fondly show itBetray the..
© Francis Beaumont
Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter To Ben Jonson
The sun, which doth the greatest comfort bringTo absent friends (because the self-same thingThey know they see, however absent), isHere our best..
© Francis Beaumont
On The Marriage Of A Beauteous Young Gentlewoman With An Ancient Man
Fondly, too curious Nature, to adornAurora with the blushes of the morn:Why do her rosy lips breath gums and spice;Unto the East, and sweet to..
© Francis Beaumont
The Author To The Reader
I sing the fortune of a luckless pair,Whose spotless souls now in one body be;For beauty still is Prodromus to care,Crost by the sad stars of..
© Francis Beaumont
The Indifferent
Never more will I protest,To love a woman but in jest:For as they cannot be true,So, to give each man his due,When the wooing fit is pastTheir..
© Francis Beaumont
True Beauty
May I find a woman fair,And her mind as clear as air,If her beauty go alone,'Tis to me as if't were none.May I find a woman rich,And not of too high..
© Francis Beaumont
Lay A Garland On My Hearse
Lay a garland on my hearse,Of the dismal yew,Maidens, willow branches bear,Say I died true.My love was false, but I was firmFrom my hour of..
© Francis Beaumont