Great Works of Classic and Modern Poetry

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Poems

The Lady of Shalott by Lord Alfred Tennyson
He Who Knows A Persian Proverb
I Am The Cat by Leila Usher
Hold Fast Your Dreams by Louise Driscoll
Alone by Edgar Allen Poe
Dream-Land by Edgar Allen Poe
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allen Poe
To One In Paradise by Edgar Allen poe
She Walks In Beauty by Lord Byron
To Althea From Prison by Richard Lovelace
Who Walks With Beauty by David Morton

MORE TO COME!

The Lady of Shalott

Part One

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And tho' the field the road runs by
To many towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow,
The island of Shalott.

Willows white, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle embowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veilded,
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot.
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river windong clearly,
Down to towered Camelot.
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers ''Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott'.>br>

Part Two

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot.
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troup of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot.
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights,
And music, went to Camelot.
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
'I am half sick of shadows' said
The Lady of Shalott.

Part Three

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot.
Abd from his blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jeweled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot,
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed;
On burnished hoobes his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
'Tirra lirra,' by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro' the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
'The curse is come upon me' cried
The Lady or Shalott

Part Four In the stormy east wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott

And down the river's dim expanse--
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing with all his own mischance--
With glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosened the chain and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying,robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right--
The leaves upon her falling light--
Thro' the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
And as teh boat-head wound along,
The willow hills and fields among,
The heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott

Heard a carol, mournful, holy
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkenend wholly,
Turned toward Camelot;
For ere she reached upon the tide
The first house by the waterside,
Singing her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott

Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, 'She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott'.

He Who Knows

He who knows not, and knows not that he knows not, is a fool,
Shun him.

He who knows not, and knows that he knows not, is a child,
Teach him.

He who knows, and knows not that he knows, is asleep,
Wake him.

He who knows, and knows that he knows, is wise
Follow him.

I Am The Cat

In Egypt they worshiped me--
I am the Cat.
Because I bend not to the will of man
They call me a mystery.
When I catch and play with a mouse,
They call me cruel.
Yet they take animals to keep
In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.
Nay, more, they persedcute their own human creatures;
They shoot, they hang, they torture them,
Yet dare to call me cruel.
Could they but see themselves
As I, the Cat, see them,
These human creatures, bereft of all freedom,
Who follow in the ruts of others made
Long ages gone!
Who have rings in their noses,
Yet know it not.
They hate me, the Cat,
Because, forsooth, I do not love them.
Do they love me?
They think all animals are made for their pleasure,
To be their slaves.
And, while I kill only for my needs,
They kill for pleasure, power and gold,
And then pretend to a superiority!
Why should I love them?
I, the Cat, who's ancestors
Proudly trod the jungle,
Not one ever tamed by man.
Ah, do they know
That the same immortal hand
That gave them breath, gave breath to me?
But I alone am free--
I am THE CAT.

Hold Fast Your Dreams

Hold fast your dreams!
Within your heart
Keep one still, secret spot
Where dreams may go,
And, sheltered so
May thrive and grow
Where doubt and fear are not.
O keep a place apart,
Within your heart,
For little dreams to go!

Think still of lovely things that are not true.
Let wish and magic work at will in you.
Be sometimes blind to sorrow. Make believe!
Forget the calm that lies
In disillusioned eyes.
Though we all know that we must die,
Yet you and
May walk like gods and be
Even now at home in immortality.

We see so many ugly things--
Deceits and wrongs and quarelings;
We know, alas! We know
How quickly we fade
The color in the west,
The bloom upon the flower,
The bloom upon the breast
And youth's blind hour
Yet keep within your heart
A place apart
Where little dreams may go,
May thrive and grow.
Hold fast--hold fast your dreams!

Alone