A True Maid
A
Similar Poems:
Poetry by Lydia Huntley Sigourney
![Lydia Huntley Sigourney](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_S1FkIjhluRuBCZbA0ZwNHsMp6uxNYZko2TkJXD7u.jpeg)
Morn on her rosy couch awoke,
Enchantment led the hour,
And mirth and music drank the dews
That freshen’d Beauty’s flower,
Then from her bower of deep delight,
I heard a young girl sing,
‘Oh, speak no ill of poetry,
For ’tis a holy thing.’
Read Poem Enchantment led the hour,
And mirth and music drank the dews
That freshen’d Beauty’s flower,
Then from her bower of deep delight,
I heard a young girl sing,
‘Oh, speak no ill of poetry,
For ’tis a holy thing.’
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“No, Master, Never!” by Joshua McCarter Simpson
![Joshua McCarter Simpson](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_poet-image.jpeg)
Or the true feelings of those slaves who say they
would not be free. The following shows their
feelings when they are free.
Air—“Pop Goes the Weasel”
Old master always said,
Jack will never leave me:
He has a noble head,
He will not deceive me.
I will treat him every day
Kindly and clever,
Then he will not run away—
No, master, never!
Read Poem would not be free. The following shows their
feelings when they are free.
Air—“Pop Goes the Weasel”
Old master always said,
Jack will never leave me:
He has a noble head,
He will not deceive me.
I will treat him every day
Kindly and clever,
Then he will not run away—
No, master, never!
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The Chosen by Thomas Hardy
![Thomas Hardy](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_QRuiFIGyhoAMjwzTJn79im7wRFJuoIJWWV6RNUqf.jpeg)
“A woman for whom great gods might strive!”
I said, and kissed her there:
And then I thought of the other five,
And of how charms outwear.
I thought of the first with her eating eyes,
And I thought of the second with hers, green-gray,
And I thought of the third, experienced, wise,
Read Poem I said, and kissed her there:
And then I thought of the other five,
And of how charms outwear.
I thought of the first with her eating eyes,
And I thought of the second with hers, green-gray,
And I thought of the third, experienced, wise,
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The Rattling Boy from Dublin by Knight of the White Elephant of Burmah William McGonagall
![Knight of the White Elephant of Burmah William McGonagall](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_EjyYY4YopZAkNQMdlC2W6AsygLUnnwaYNC6e7Dso.jpeg)
I’m a rattling boy from Dublin town,
I courted a girl called Biddy Brown,
Her eyes they were as black as sloes,
She had black hair and an aquiline nose.
Chorus—
Whack fal de da, fal de darelido,
Read Poem I courted a girl called Biddy Brown,
Her eyes they were as black as sloes,
She had black hair and an aquiline nose.
Chorus—
Whack fal de da, fal de darelido,
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You Can Have It by Philip Levine
![Philip Levine](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_rIKNQLSz2ELbPKtkYPCH8FelonWo4QanmDEfaEYA.jpeg)
My brother comes home from work
and climbs the stairs to our room.
I can hear the bed groan and his shoes drop
one by one. You can have it, he says.
The moonlight streams in the window
and his unshaven face is whitened
like the face of the moon. He will sleep
long after noon and waken to find me gone.
Read Poem and climbs the stairs to our room.
I can hear the bed groan and his shoes drop
one by one. You can have it, he says.
The moonlight streams in the window
and his unshaven face is whitened
like the face of the moon. He will sleep
long after noon and waken to find me gone.
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The Ballad of Nat Turner by Robert Hayden
![Robert Hayden](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_E9UU7nkbCVFAeUzdBoOcxj4SvWKVLnFcau2pdTMc.jpeg)
Then fled, O brethren, the wicked juba
and wandered wandered far
from curfew joys in the Dismal’s night.
Fool of St. Elmo’s fire
In scary night I wandered, praying,
Lord God my harshener,
speak to me now or let me die;
speak, Lord, to this mourner.
Read Poem and wandered wandered far
from curfew joys in the Dismal’s night.
Fool of St. Elmo’s fire
In scary night I wandered, praying,
Lord God my harshener,
speak to me now or let me die;
speak, Lord, to this mourner.
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The Chimney Sweeper: When my mother died I was very young by William Blake
![William Blake](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_cDG3GFf8uWuzMRCkdejnlItPsB3plVLERjeuDKlg.jpeg)
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
Read Poem And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.
There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
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From Maud (Part I) by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
![Alfred, Lord Tennyson](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_yFq4gHV5lwFOryeQjrkj818WfvusALzybK4qWfvR.jpeg)
A Monodrama
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
Read Poem For the black bat, night, has flown,
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone;
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A Serenade at the Villa by Robert Browning
![Robert Browning](/storage/poets/resize/500x500_RL60zOOT3svEOXC8XYagFHoFJSMoKaV3RjtzTl36.jpeg)
I
That was I, you heard last night,
When there rose no moon at all,
Nor, to pierce the strained and tight
Tent of heaven, a planet small:
Life was dead and so was light.
II
Read Poem That was I, you heard last night,
When there rose no moon at all,
Nor, to pierce the strained and tight
Tent of heaven, a planet small:
Life was dead and so was light.
II
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