Poems by famous poets

Few famous poems by famous poets

~~THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET~~

By John Keates

The poetry of earth is never dead :

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,

And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run,

From hedge to hedge about the new -mown mead;

That is the Grasshopper's -he takes the lead

In summer luxury-he has never done

With his delights; for when tired out with fun

He rests at tease beneath some pleasant weed.

The poetry of earth is ceasing never:

On a lone winter evening, when the frost

Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills

The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,

And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,

The Grasshopper's among grassy hills.

'On the Grasshopper and the Cricket' is a sonnet suggesting the eternal continuity of nature's music. In summer one hears the song of the grasshopper and in winter of the cricket.When the grasshopper stops singing, the cricket picks it up.

The Grashopper and the Cricket by John Keates

~~~When we two parted~~~

By Lord Byron (1788-1824)

When we two parted In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted To sever the years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder, thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.


The dew of the morning
Sunk, chill on my brow,
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.


They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me...
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well..
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.


In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.

When we two parted By Lord Byron


~~~Meeting at Night~~~

The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!


By Robert browning

~~~The First Day ~~~

I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me;
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say.
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it! Such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much!
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand! - Did one but know!

By Christina Rossetti