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").
Sketch From Bowden Hill After Sickness
How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill,To him who, pale and languid, on thy browPauses, respiring, and bids hail againThe upland breeze, the..
© William Lisle Bowles
Picture Of A Young Lady
When I was sitting, sad, and all alone,Remembering youth and love for ever fled,And many friends now resting with the dead,While the still summer's..
© William Lisle Bowles
Xi. Written At Ostend
HOW sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal!As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breezeBreathes on the trembling sense of wan disease,So piercing..
© William Lisle Bowles
Sun-Dial, In The Churchyard Of Bremhill
So passes silent o'er the dead thy shade,Brief Time; and hour by hour, and day by day,The pleasing pictures of the present fade,And like a summer..
© William Lisle Bowles
Summer Evening At Home
Come, lovely Evening! with thy smile of peaceVisit my humble dwelling; welcomed in,Not with loud shouts, and the thronged city's din,But with such..
© William Lisle Bowles
Stanzas For Music
I trust the happy hour will come,That shall to peace thy breast restore;And that we two, beloved friend,Shall one day meet to part no more.It grieves..
© William Lisle Bowles
Sonnet Iii. O Thou, Whose Stern Command And Precepts Pure...
O THOU, whose stern command and precepts pure(Tho' agony in every vein should start,And slowly drain the blood-drops from the heart)Have bade the..
© William Lisle Bowles
Sonnet Ii. Written At Bamborough Castle.
YE holy tow'rs, that crown the azure deep,Still may ye shade the wave-worn rock sublime,Though, hurrying silent by, relentless TimeAssail you, and..
© William Lisle Bowles
Southampton Castle
INSCRIBED TO THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE.The moonlight is without; and I could loseAn hour to gaze, though Taste and Splendour here,As in a lustrous..
© William Lisle Bowles
The River Wainsbeck
While slowly wanders thy sequestered stream,WAINSBECK, the mossy-scattered rocks among,In fancy's ear making a plaintive songTo the dark woods above..
© William Lisle Bowles
On The Busts Of Milton, In Youth And Age, At Stourhead
IN YOUTH.Milton, our noblest poet, in the graceOf youth, in those fair eyes and clustering hair,That brow untouched by one faint line of care,To mar..
© William Lisle Bowles
The Missionary - Canto First
Beneath aerial cliffs, and glittering snows,The rush-roof of an aged warrior rose,Chief of the mountain tribes: high overhead,The Andes, wild and..
© William Lisle Bowles
The River Cherwell
Cherwell! how pleased along thy willowed edgeErewhile I strayed, or when the morn beganTo tinge the distant turret's golden fan,Or evening glimmered..
© William Lisle Bowles
Sonnet Vi. Evening, As Slow Thy Placid Shades Descend...
Evening, as slow thy placid shades descend,Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still,The lonely battlement, and farthest hillAnd wood; I think..
© William Lisle Bowles
Sonnet V. To The River Tweed.
O TWEED! a stranger, that with wand'ring feetO'er hill and dale has journey'd many a mile,(If so his weary thoughts he might beguile)Delighted turns..
© William Lisle Bowles
The Bells Of Ostend
No, I never, till life and its shadows shall end,Can forget the sweet sound of the bells of Ostend!The day set in darkness, the wind it blew loud,And..
© William Lisle Bowles
Song Of The American Indian
Stranger, stay, nor wish to climbThe heights of yonder hills sublime;For there strange shapes and spirits dwell,That oft the murmuring thunders..
© William Lisle Bowles
Wardour Castle
If rich designs of sumptuous art may please,Or Nature's loftier views, august and old,Stranger! behold this spreading scene;--beholdThis amphitheatre..
© William Lisle Bowles
Hope
As one who, long by wasting sickness worn,Weary has watched the lingering night, and heardUnmoved the carol of the matin birdSalute his lonely porch;..
© William Lisle Bowles
Greenwich Hospital
Come to these peaceful seats, and think no moreOf cold, of midnight watchings, or the roarOf Ocean, tossing on his restless bed!Come to these..
© William Lisle Bowles
Oxford Revisited
I never hear the sound of thy glad bells,Oxford, and chime harmonious, but I say,Sighing to think how time has worn away,Some spirit speaks in the..
© William Lisle Bowles
On The Funeral Of Charles The First
The castle clock had tolled midnight:With mattock and with spade,And silent, by the torches' light,His corse in earth we laid.The coffin bore his..
© William Lisle Bowles
Evening
Evening! as slow thy placid shades descend,Veiling with gentlest hush the landscape still,The lonely battlement, the farthest hillAnd wood, I think..
© William Lisle Bowles
Sonnet: At Ostend, July 22nd 1787
How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal!As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breezeBreathes on the trembling sense of wan disease,So piercing..
© William Lisle Bowles
Retrospection
I turn these leaves with thronging thoughts, and say,Alas! how many friends of youth are dead;How many visions of fair hope have fled,Since first, my..
© William Lisle Bowles