Tag: English Poet

“To My Dear and Loving Husband” by Anne Bradstreet (1612 – 1672)

Post author By TDarris
Post date January 3, 2016
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If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay;	
The heavens reward thee manifold, I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,
That when we live no more we may live ever.

Tags anne, anne bradstreet, art, Arts, bradstreet, Britain, british poem, British Poet, British Poetry, crown, England, English, english poem, english poems, English Poet, English Poetry, Family, female, female poet, husband, husband and wife, Literature, marriage, marry, northampton, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, puritan, queen, religion, royal, royal family, spouse, United Kingdom, wife, woman, women

18th Century Alexander Pope Uncategorized

“Ode on Solitude” by Alexander Pope

Post author By TDarris
Post date January 2, 2016
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Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.

Whose heards with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest! who can unconcern’dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix’d; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me dye;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lye.

Tags 18th Century, Alexander, Alexander Pope, art, Arts, bitrish poet, British, British Poetry, English, English Poet, English Poetry, Literature, poem, poems, poet, Poetry, Pope, Write, Writer, writing

18th Century British Poetry Celebration England English English poetry European Poetry UK United Kingodm

“The Lamb” by William Blake

Post author By TDarris
Post date July 31, 2015
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Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed,
By the stream and o’er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee,
Little Lamb, I’ll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!

Tags 18th Century, art, Arts, Bible, Britain, British, British Poet, Catherine Blake, Celebration, Chrisianity, Christ, christian, Eighteenth Century, England, English, English Poet, Europa, Europe, Holy Bible, Jesus, Jesus Christ, Literature, messiah, poem, poet, Poetry, tdarris, The Lamb, UK, United Kingdom, William Blake

British Poetry English poetry European Poetry Romantic Era Romanticisim William Blake

“A Poison Tree” by William Blake

Post author By TDarris
Post date May 3, 2015
No Comments on “A Poison Tree” by William Blake

I was angry with my friend;

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,

Night & morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,

When the night had veild the pole;

In the morning glad I see;

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Tags anger, Britain, British, British Poet, British Poetry, death, deceit, enemies, enemy, English, English Poet, English Poetry, foe, foes, pain, rhymed stanza, wrath

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