PoemOfTheDay
@poemoftheday.bsky.social
A new poem every day — drawn at random from 40,000 English poems at PoeTree collection (https://poetree.org).
📖 SIR GUY'S ANSWER
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
We have reason to think there will soon be a peace,
And that war with the Rebels will certainly cease;
But, be that as it will, I would have you to know
That as matters are changing, we soon may change too;
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
We have reason to think there will soon be a peace,
And that war with the Rebels will certainly cease;
But, be that as it will, I would have you to know
That as matters are changing, we soon may change too;
📖 SIR GUY'S ANSWER
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
versologie.cz
September 20, 2026 at 10:14 AM
📖 SIR GUY'S ANSWER
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
We have reason to think there will soon be a peace,
And that war with the Rebels will certainly cease;
But, be that as it will, I would have you to know
That as matters are changing, we soon may change too;
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
We have reason to think there will soon be a peace,
And that war with the Rebels will certainly cease;
But, be that as it will, I would have you to know
That as matters are changing, we soon may change too;
📖 * ODE TO THE OPENING OF THE SOUTH
👤 Wallace, Edgar (1875—1932)
Father of all!
Robed in splendour,
Thou who dost wield
Almighty power,
All things are thine,
Fruitage and flower —
Cattle and kine —
Vineyard and field!
Hear, when we call.
Praising the Sender!
Father of all!
👤 Wallace, Edgar (1875—1932)
Father of all!
Robed in splendour,
Thou who dost wield
Almighty power,
All things are thine,
Fruitage and flower —
Cattle and kine —
Vineyard and field!
Hear, when we call.
Praising the Sender!
Father of all!
📖 * ODE TO THE OPENING OF THE SOUTH
👤 Wallace, Edgar (1875—1932)
versologie.cz
September 19, 2026 at 9:52 AM
📖 * ODE TO THE OPENING OF THE SOUTH
👤 Wallace, Edgar (1875—1932)
Father of all!
Robed in splendour,
Thou who dost wield
Almighty power,
All things are thine,
Fruitage and flower —
Cattle and kine —
Vineyard and field!
Hear, when we call.
Praising the Sender!
Father of all!
👤 Wallace, Edgar (1875—1932)
Father of all!
Robed in splendour,
Thou who dost wield
Almighty power,
All things are thine,
Fruitage and flower —
Cattle and kine —
Vineyard and field!
Hear, when we call.
Praising the Sender!
Father of all!
📖 INFANT SORROW
👤 Blake, William (1757—1827)
My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father’ s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
👤 Blake, William (1757—1827)
My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father’ s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
📖 INFANT SORROW
👤 Blake, William (1757—1827)
versologie.cz
September 18, 2026 at 10:11 AM
📖 INFANT SORROW
👤 Blake, William (1757—1827)
My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father’ s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
👤 Blake, William (1757—1827)
My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the dangerous world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling in my father’ s hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
📖 BY THE SEA.
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
I walked with her I love by the sea,
The deep came up with its chanting waves,
Making a music so great and free
That the will and the faith, which were dead in me,
Awoke and rose from their graves.
Chanting, and with a regal sweep
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
I walked with her I love by the sea,
The deep came up with its chanting waves,
Making a music so great and free
That the will and the faith, which were dead in me,
Awoke and rose from their graves.
Chanting, and with a regal sweep
📖 BY THE SEA.
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
versologie.cz
September 17, 2026 at 10:36 AM
📖 BY THE SEA.
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
I walked with her I love by the sea,
The deep came up with its chanting waves,
Making a music so great and free
That the will and the faith, which were dead in me,
Awoke and rose from their graves.
Chanting, and with a regal sweep
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
I walked with her I love by the sea,
The deep came up with its chanting waves,
Making a music so great and free
That the will and the faith, which were dead in me,
Awoke and rose from their graves.
Chanting, and with a regal sweep
📖 Anthem.
👤 Thompson, Francis (1859—1907)
In nescientness, in nescientness,
Mother, we put these fleshly lendings on
Thou yield'st to thy poor children; took thy gift
Of life, which must, in all the after-days,
Be craved again with tears,—
With fresh and still-petitionary tears.
👤 Thompson, Francis (1859—1907)
In nescientness, in nescientness,
Mother, we put these fleshly lendings on
Thou yield'st to thy poor children; took thy gift
Of life, which must, in all the after-days,
Be craved again with tears,—
With fresh and still-petitionary tears.
📖 Anthem.
👤 Thompson, Francis (1859—1907)
versologie.cz
September 16, 2026 at 10:26 AM
📖 Anthem.
👤 Thompson, Francis (1859—1907)
In nescientness, in nescientness,
Mother, we put these fleshly lendings on
Thou yield'st to thy poor children; took thy gift
Of life, which must, in all the after-days,
Be craved again with tears,—
With fresh and still-petitionary tears.
👤 Thompson, Francis (1859—1907)
In nescientness, in nescientness,
Mother, we put these fleshly lendings on
Thou yield'st to thy poor children; took thy gift
Of life, which must, in all the after-days,
Be craved again with tears,—
With fresh and still-petitionary tears.
📖 EARTH'S LYRIC.
👤 Hovey, Richard (1864—1900) & Carman, Bliss (1861—1929)
A pril. You hearken, my fellow,
Old slumberer down in my heart?
There's a whooping of ice in the rivers;
The sap feels a start.
The snow-melted torrents are brawling;
The hills, orange-misted and blue,
👤 Hovey, Richard (1864—1900) & Carman, Bliss (1861—1929)
A pril. You hearken, my fellow,
Old slumberer down in my heart?
There's a whooping of ice in the rivers;
The sap feels a start.
The snow-melted torrents are brawling;
The hills, orange-misted and blue,
📖 EARTH'S LYRIC.
👤 Hovey, Richard (1864—1900) & Carman, Bliss (1861—1929)
versologie.cz
September 15, 2026 at 10:37 AM
📖 EARTH'S LYRIC.
👤 Hovey, Richard (1864—1900) & Carman, Bliss (1861—1929)
A pril. You hearken, my fellow,
Old slumberer down in my heart?
There's a whooping of ice in the rivers;
The sap feels a start.
The snow-melted torrents are brawling;
The hills, orange-misted and blue,
👤 Hovey, Richard (1864—1900) & Carman, Bliss (1861—1929)
A pril. You hearken, my fellow,
Old slumberer down in my heart?
There's a whooping of ice in the rivers;
The sap feels a start.
The snow-melted torrents are brawling;
The hills, orange-misted and blue,
📖 RENDEZVOUS
👤 Van Dyke, Henry (1852—1933)
I count that friendship little worth
Which has not many things untold,
Great longings that no words can hold,
And passion-secrets waiting birth.
Along the slender wires of speech
Some message from the heart is sent;
👤 Van Dyke, Henry (1852—1933)
I count that friendship little worth
Which has not many things untold,
Great longings that no words can hold,
And passion-secrets waiting birth.
Along the slender wires of speech
Some message from the heart is sent;
📖 RENDEZVOUS
👤 Van Dyke, Henry (1852—1933)
versologie.cz
September 14, 2026 at 11:09 AM
📖 RENDEZVOUS
👤 Van Dyke, Henry (1852—1933)
I count that friendship little worth
Which has not many things untold,
Great longings that no words can hold,
And passion-secrets waiting birth.
Along the slender wires of speech
Some message from the heart is sent;
👤 Van Dyke, Henry (1852—1933)
I count that friendship little worth
Which has not many things untold,
Great longings that no words can hold,
And passion-secrets waiting birth.
Along the slender wires of speech
Some message from the heart is sent;
📖 AN ANARCHIST.
👤 Bierce, Ambrose (1842—1914)
False to his art and to the high command
God laid upon him, Markham's rebel hand
Beats all in vain the harp he touched before:
It yields a jingle and it yields no more.
No more the strings beneath his finger-tips
👤 Bierce, Ambrose (1842—1914)
False to his art and to the high command
God laid upon him, Markham's rebel hand
Beats all in vain the harp he touched before:
It yields a jingle and it yields no more.
No more the strings beneath his finger-tips
📖 AN ANARCHIST.
👤 Bierce, Ambrose (1842—1914)
versologie.cz
September 13, 2026 at 10:45 AM
📖 AN ANARCHIST.
👤 Bierce, Ambrose (1842—1914)
False to his art and to the high command
God laid upon him, Markham's rebel hand
Beats all in vain the harp he touched before:
It yields a jingle and it yields no more.
No more the strings beneath his finger-tips
👤 Bierce, Ambrose (1842—1914)
False to his art and to the high command
God laid upon him, Markham's rebel hand
Beats all in vain the harp he touched before:
It yields a jingle and it yields no more.
No more the strings beneath his finger-tips
📖 XIX
👤 Santayana, George (1863—1952)
Above the battlements of heaven rise
The glittering domes of the gods’ golden dwelling,
Whence, like a constellation, passion-quelling,
The truth of all things feeds immortal eyes.
There all forgotten dreams of paradise
👤 Santayana, George (1863—1952)
Above the battlements of heaven rise
The glittering domes of the gods’ golden dwelling,
Whence, like a constellation, passion-quelling,
The truth of all things feeds immortal eyes.
There all forgotten dreams of paradise
📖 XIX
👤 Santayana, George (1863—1952)
versologie.cz
September 12, 2026 at 9:43 AM
📖 XIX
👤 Santayana, George (1863—1952)
Above the battlements of heaven rise
The glittering domes of the gods’ golden dwelling,
Whence, like a constellation, passion-quelling,
The truth of all things feeds immortal eyes.
There all forgotten dreams of paradise
👤 Santayana, George (1863—1952)
Above the battlements of heaven rise
The glittering domes of the gods’ golden dwelling,
Whence, like a constellation, passion-quelling,
The truth of all things feeds immortal eyes.
There all forgotten dreams of paradise
📖 WORSHIP
👤 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803—1882)
This is he, who, felled by foes,
Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:
He to captivity was sold,
But him no prison-bars would hold:
Though they sealed him in a rock,
Mountain chains he can unlock:
Thrown to lions for their meat,
👤 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803—1882)
This is he, who, felled by foes,
Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:
He to captivity was sold,
But him no prison-bars would hold:
Though they sealed him in a rock,
Mountain chains he can unlock:
Thrown to lions for their meat,
📖 WORSHIP
👤 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803—1882)
versologie.cz
September 11, 2026 at 10:09 AM
📖 WORSHIP
👤 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803—1882)
This is he, who, felled by foes,
Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:
He to captivity was sold,
But him no prison-bars would hold:
Though they sealed him in a rock,
Mountain chains he can unlock:
Thrown to lions for their meat,
👤 Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803—1882)
This is he, who, felled by foes,
Sprung harmless up, refreshed by blows:
He to captivity was sold,
But him no prison-bars would hold:
Though they sealed him in a rock,
Mountain chains he can unlock:
Thrown to lions for their meat,
📖 A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags...
👤 Wordsworth, William (1770—1850)
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy:
👤 Wordsworth, William (1770—1850)
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy:
📖 A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags...
👤 Wordsworth, William (1770—1850)
versologie.cz
September 10, 2026 at 10:11 AM
📖 A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags...
👤 Wordsworth, William (1770—1850)
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy:
👤 Wordsworth, William (1770—1850)
A narrow girdle of rough stones and crags,
A rude and natural causeway, interposed
Between the water and a winding slope
Of copse and thicket, leaves the eastern shore
Of Grasmere safe in its own privacy:
📖 OLD WOMAN IN MAY
👤 Drinkwater, John (1882—1937)
“Old woman by the hedgerow
In gown of withered black,
With beads and pins and buttons
And ribbons in your pack —
How many miles do you go?
To Dumbleton and back?”
“To Dumbleton and back, sir,
And round by Cotsall Hill,
👤 Drinkwater, John (1882—1937)
“Old woman by the hedgerow
In gown of withered black,
With beads and pins and buttons
And ribbons in your pack —
How many miles do you go?
To Dumbleton and back?”
“To Dumbleton and back, sir,
And round by Cotsall Hill,
📖 OLD WOMAN IN MAY
👤 Drinkwater, John (1882—1937)
versologie.cz
September 9, 2026 at 10:18 AM
📖 OLD WOMAN IN MAY
👤 Drinkwater, John (1882—1937)
“Old woman by the hedgerow
In gown of withered black,
With beads and pins and buttons
And ribbons in your pack —
How many miles do you go?
To Dumbleton and back?”
“To Dumbleton and back, sir,
And round by Cotsall Hill,
👤 Drinkwater, John (1882—1937)
“Old woman by the hedgerow
In gown of withered black,
With beads and pins and buttons
And ribbons in your pack —
How many miles do you go?
To Dumbleton and back?”
“To Dumbleton and back, sir,
And round by Cotsall Hill,
📖 Calvin Campbell
👤 Masters, Edgar Lee (1868—1950)
YE who are kicking against Fate,
Tell me how it is that on this hill-side
Running down to the river,
Which fronts the sun and the south-wind,
This plant draws from the air and soil
Poison and becomes poison ivy?
👤 Masters, Edgar Lee (1868—1950)
YE who are kicking against Fate,
Tell me how it is that on this hill-side
Running down to the river,
Which fronts the sun and the south-wind,
This plant draws from the air and soil
Poison and becomes poison ivy?
📖 Calvin Campbell
👤 Masters, Edgar Lee (1868—1950)
versologie.cz
September 8, 2026 at 10:13 AM
📖 Calvin Campbell
👤 Masters, Edgar Lee (1868—1950)
YE who are kicking against Fate,
Tell me how it is that on this hill-side
Running down to the river,
Which fronts the sun and the south-wind,
This plant draws from the air and soil
Poison and becomes poison ivy?
👤 Masters, Edgar Lee (1868—1950)
YE who are kicking against Fate,
Tell me how it is that on this hill-side
Running down to the river,
Which fronts the sun and the south-wind,
This plant draws from the air and soil
Poison and becomes poison ivy?
📖 SWEET FERN.
👤 Whittier, John Greenleaf (1807—1892)
The subtle power in perfume found
Nor priest nor sibyl vainly learned;
On Grecian shrine or Aztec mound
No censer idly burned.
That power the old-time worships knew,
The Corybantes’ frenzied dance,
👤 Whittier, John Greenleaf (1807—1892)
The subtle power in perfume found
Nor priest nor sibyl vainly learned;
On Grecian shrine or Aztec mound
No censer idly burned.
That power the old-time worships knew,
The Corybantes’ frenzied dance,
📖 SWEET FERN.
👤 Whittier, John Greenleaf (1807—1892)
versologie.cz
September 7, 2026 at 10:57 AM
📖 SWEET FERN.
👤 Whittier, John Greenleaf (1807—1892)
The subtle power in perfume found
Nor priest nor sibyl vainly learned;
On Grecian shrine or Aztec mound
No censer idly burned.
That power the old-time worships knew,
The Corybantes’ frenzied dance,
👤 Whittier, John Greenleaf (1807—1892)
The subtle power in perfume found
Nor priest nor sibyl vainly learned;
On Grecian shrine or Aztec mound
No censer idly burned.
That power the old-time worships knew,
The Corybantes’ frenzied dance,
📖 WHILE SHE SANG.
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
She sang, and I heard the singing,
Far out of the wretched past,
Of meadow-larks in the meadow,
In a breathing of the blast.
Cold through the clouds of sunset
The thin red sunlight shone,
Staining the gloom of the woodland
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
She sang, and I heard the singing,
Far out of the wretched past,
Of meadow-larks in the meadow,
In a breathing of the blast.
Cold through the clouds of sunset
The thin red sunlight shone,
Staining the gloom of the woodland
📖 WHILE SHE SANG.
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
versologie.cz
September 6, 2026 at 9:51 AM
📖 WHILE SHE SANG.
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
She sang, and I heard the singing,
Far out of the wretched past,
Of meadow-larks in the meadow,
In a breathing of the blast.
Cold through the clouds of sunset
The thin red sunlight shone,
Staining the gloom of the woodland
👤 Howells, William Dean (1837—1920)
She sang, and I heard the singing,
Far out of the wretched past,
Of meadow-larks in the meadow,
In a breathing of the blast.
Cold through the clouds of sunset
The thin red sunlight shone,
Staining the gloom of the woodland
📖 SKETCHES OF AMERICAN HISTORY
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
This American world, all our histories say,
Secluded from Europe, long centuries lay,
And peopled by beings whom white-men detest,
The sons of the Tartars, that came from the west.
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
This American world, all our histories say,
Secluded from Europe, long centuries lay,
And peopled by beings whom white-men detest,
The sons of the Tartars, that came from the west.
📖 SKETCHES OF AMERICAN HISTORY
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
versologie.cz
September 5, 2026 at 9:36 AM
📖 SKETCHES OF AMERICAN HISTORY
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
This American world, all our histories say,
Secluded from Europe, long centuries lay,
And peopled by beings whom white-men detest,
The sons of the Tartars, that came from the west.
👤 Freneau, Philip Morin (1752—1832)
This American world, all our histories say,
Secluded from Europe, long centuries lay,
And peopled by beings whom white-men detest,
The sons of the Tartars, that came from the west.
📖 THE HAPPY COTTAGERS.
👤 Brontë, Patrick (1777—1861)
One sunny morn of May,
When dressed in flowery green
The dewy landscape, charmed
With Nature's fairest scene,
In thoughtful mood
I slowly strayed
O'er hill and dale,
Through bush and glade.
Throughout the cloudless sky
👤 Brontë, Patrick (1777—1861)
One sunny morn of May,
When dressed in flowery green
The dewy landscape, charmed
With Nature's fairest scene,
In thoughtful mood
I slowly strayed
O'er hill and dale,
Through bush and glade.
Throughout the cloudless sky
📖 THE HAPPY COTTAGERS.
👤 Brontë, Patrick (1777—1861)
versologie.cz
September 4, 2026 at 10:06 AM
📖 THE HAPPY COTTAGERS.
👤 Brontë, Patrick (1777—1861)
One sunny morn of May,
When dressed in flowery green
The dewy landscape, charmed
With Nature's fairest scene,
In thoughtful mood
I slowly strayed
O'er hill and dale,
Through bush and glade.
Throughout the cloudless sky
👤 Brontë, Patrick (1777—1861)
One sunny morn of May,
When dressed in flowery green
The dewy landscape, charmed
With Nature's fairest scene,
In thoughtful mood
I slowly strayed
O'er hill and dale,
Through bush and glade.
Throughout the cloudless sky
📖 MONODY, WRITTEN AT MATLOCK.
👤 Bowles, William Lisle (1762—1850)
Matlock! amid thy hoary-hanging views,
Thy glens that smile sequestered, and thy nooks
Which yon forsaken crag all dark o'erlooks;
Once more I court the long neglected Muse,
As erst when by the mossy brink and falls
👤 Bowles, William Lisle (1762—1850)
Matlock! amid thy hoary-hanging views,
Thy glens that smile sequestered, and thy nooks
Which yon forsaken crag all dark o'erlooks;
Once more I court the long neglected Muse,
As erst when by the mossy brink and falls
📖 MONODY, WRITTEN AT MATLOCK.
👤 Bowles, William Lisle (1762—1850)
versologie.cz
September 3, 2026 at 10:18 AM
📖 MONODY, WRITTEN AT MATLOCK.
👤 Bowles, William Lisle (1762—1850)
Matlock! amid thy hoary-hanging views,
Thy glens that smile sequestered, and thy nooks
Which yon forsaken crag all dark o'erlooks;
Once more I court the long neglected Muse,
As erst when by the mossy brink and falls
👤 Bowles, William Lisle (1762—1850)
Matlock! amid thy hoary-hanging views,
Thy glens that smile sequestered, and thy nooks
Which yon forsaken crag all dark o'erlooks;
Once more I court the long neglected Muse,
As erst when by the mossy brink and falls
📖 BURNS: AN ODE
👤 Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837—1909)
A fire of fierce and laughing light
That clove the shuddering heart of night
Leapt earthward, and the thunder's might
That pants and yearns
Made fitful music round its flight:
And earth saw Burns.
👤 Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837—1909)
A fire of fierce and laughing light
That clove the shuddering heart of night
Leapt earthward, and the thunder's might
That pants and yearns
Made fitful music round its flight:
And earth saw Burns.
📖 BURNS: AN ODE
👤 Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837—1909)
versologie.cz
September 2, 2026 at 10:07 AM
📖 BURNS: AN ODE
👤 Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837—1909)
A fire of fierce and laughing light
That clove the shuddering heart of night
Leapt earthward, and the thunder's might
That pants and yearns
Made fitful music round its flight:
And earth saw Burns.
👤 Swinburne, Algernon Charles (1837—1909)
A fire of fierce and laughing light
That clove the shuddering heart of night
Leapt earthward, and the thunder's might
That pants and yearns
Made fitful music round its flight:
And earth saw Burns.
📖 THE PASSAGE-BIRDS.
👤 Cassels, Walter Richard (1826—1907)
Far, far away, over land and sea,
When Winter comes with his cold, cold breath,
And chills the flowers to the sleep of death,
Far, far away over land and sea,
Like a band of spirits the Passage-birds flee.
👤 Cassels, Walter Richard (1826—1907)
Far, far away, over land and sea,
When Winter comes with his cold, cold breath,
And chills the flowers to the sleep of death,
Far, far away over land and sea,
Like a band of spirits the Passage-birds flee.
📖 THE PASSAGE-BIRDS.
👤 Cassels, Walter Richard (1826—1907)
versologie.cz
September 1, 2026 at 10:42 AM
📖 THE PASSAGE-BIRDS.
👤 Cassels, Walter Richard (1826—1907)
Far, far away, over land and sea,
When Winter comes with his cold, cold breath,
And chills the flowers to the sleep of death,
Far, far away over land and sea,
Like a band of spirits the Passage-birds flee.
👤 Cassels, Walter Richard (1826—1907)
Far, far away, over land and sea,
When Winter comes with his cold, cold breath,
And chills the flowers to the sleep of death,
Far, far away over land and sea,
Like a band of spirits the Passage-birds flee.
📖 The March of the Dead
👤 Service, Robert William (1874—1958)
The cruel war was over — oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
👤 Service, Robert William (1874—1958)
The cruel war was over — oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
📖 The March of the Dead
👤 Service, Robert William (1874—1958)
versologie.cz
August 31, 2026 at 12:03 PM
📖 The March of the Dead
👤 Service, Robert William (1874—1958)
The cruel war was over — oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
👤 Service, Robert William (1874—1958)
The cruel war was over — oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
📖 Savantism
👤 Whitman, Walt (1819—1892)
Thither as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and nestling close, always obligated,
Thither hours, months, years — thither trades, compacts, establishments, even the most minute,
👤 Whitman, Walt (1819—1892)
Thither as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and nestling close, always obligated,
Thither hours, months, years — thither trades, compacts, establishments, even the most minute,
📖 Savantism
👤 Whitman, Walt (1819—1892)
versologie.cz
August 30, 2026 at 10:51 AM
📖 Savantism
👤 Whitman, Walt (1819—1892)
Thither as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and nestling close, always obligated,
Thither hours, months, years — thither trades, compacts, establishments, even the most minute,
👤 Whitman, Walt (1819—1892)
Thither as I look I see each result and glory retracing itself and nestling close, always obligated,
Thither hours, months, years — thither trades, compacts, establishments, even the most minute,
📖 WIND.
👤 Baillie, Joanna (1762—1851)
Pow'r uncontrollable, who hold'st thy sway
In the unbounded air, whose trackless way
Is in the firmament, unknown of fight,
Who bend'st the sheeted heavens in thy might,
And lift'st the ocean from its lowest bed
👤 Baillie, Joanna (1762—1851)
Pow'r uncontrollable, who hold'st thy sway
In the unbounded air, whose trackless way
Is in the firmament, unknown of fight,
Who bend'st the sheeted heavens in thy might,
And lift'st the ocean from its lowest bed
📖 WIND.
👤 Baillie, Joanna (1762—1851)
versologie.cz
August 29, 2026 at 11:55 AM
📖 WIND.
👤 Baillie, Joanna (1762—1851)
Pow'r uncontrollable, who hold'st thy sway
In the unbounded air, whose trackless way
Is in the firmament, unknown of fight,
Who bend'st the sheeted heavens in thy might,
And lift'st the ocean from its lowest bed
👤 Baillie, Joanna (1762—1851)
Pow'r uncontrollable, who hold'st thy sway
In the unbounded air, whose trackless way
Is in the firmament, unknown of fight,
Who bend'st the sheeted heavens in thy might,
And lift'st the ocean from its lowest bed
📖 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
👤 Keble, John (1792—1866)
O for a sculptor's hand,
That thou might'st take thy stand,
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
Thy tranced yet open gaze
Fixed on the desert haze,
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
In outline dim and vast
👤 Keble, John (1792—1866)
O for a sculptor's hand,
That thou might'st take thy stand,
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
Thy tranced yet open gaze
Fixed on the desert haze,
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
In outline dim and vast
📖 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
👤 Keble, John (1792—1866)
versologie.cz
August 28, 2026 at 5:50 PM
📖 SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER
👤 Keble, John (1792—1866)
O for a sculptor's hand,
That thou might'st take thy stand,
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
Thy tranced yet open gaze
Fixed on the desert haze,
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
In outline dim and vast
👤 Keble, John (1792—1866)
O for a sculptor's hand,
That thou might'st take thy stand,
Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,
Thy tranced yet open gaze
Fixed on the desert haze,
As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.
In outline dim and vast
📖 THE GANG
👤 Stephens, James (1882—1950)
Our fathers must have sinned: we pay for it!
Through them the base-born tribe that sold their king
Sneaked into power, and in high places sit,
And do their will and wish in everything;
For they may rob and kill, grieve and disgrace
👤 Stephens, James (1882—1950)
Our fathers must have sinned: we pay for it!
Through them the base-born tribe that sold their king
Sneaked into power, and in high places sit,
And do their will and wish in everything;
For they may rob and kill, grieve and disgrace
📖 THE GANG
👤 Stephens, James (1882—1950)
versologie.cz
August 27, 2026 at 5:01 PM
📖 THE GANG
👤 Stephens, James (1882—1950)
Our fathers must have sinned: we pay for it!
Through them the base-born tribe that sold their king
Sneaked into power, and in high places sit,
And do their will and wish in everything;
For they may rob and kill, grieve and disgrace
👤 Stephens, James (1882—1950)
Our fathers must have sinned: we pay for it!
Through them the base-born tribe that sold their king
Sneaked into power, and in high places sit,
And do their will and wish in everything;
For they may rob and kill, grieve and disgrace