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The poems of Richard Henry Stoddard

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Stoddard, Richard Henry (1825-1903)

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[section]
  
PROEM.
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EARLY POEMS.
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SONGS OF SUMMER.
  
THE FLIGHT OF YOUTH.
  
[Thy father is a King, my child]
  
[A few frail summers had touched thee]
  
THE SONG OF THE SYRENS.
  
[Range yourselves, my merry men]
  
THE SEA.
  
THE SHADOW OF THE HAND.
  
THE SPEECH OF LOVE.
  
[You may drink to your leman in gold]
  
THE SEA.
  
BIRDS.
  
THE LOST LAMB.
  
[The sky is a drinking-cup]
  
ON THE PIER.
  
[Spring, they tell me, comes in bloom]
  
[The gray old Earth goes on]
  
[There is no sin to hearts that love]
  
THE DIVAN.
  
[Here I lie, a tress of hair]
  
[The sky is thick upon the sea]
  
DAY AND NIGHT.
  
THE DEAD.
  
THE SEA.
  
[Many's the time I've sighed for summer]
  
A SERENADE.
  
[The house is dark and dreary]
  
[The phantom that walks in the sun]
  
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BRIDAL.
  
[Dim grows the sky, and dusk the air]
  
SUMMER AND AUTUMN.
  
THE HELMET.
  
ROSES AND THORNS.
  
[Beneath the heavy curtains]
  
[Rattle the window, Winds]
  
THE VEILED STATUE.
  
DEAD LEAVES.
  
“POEMS OF THE ORIENT.”
  
THE SEA.
  
AT REST.
  
[Wrecks of clouds of a sombre gray]
  
[No, I will not leave you, Madam]
  
THE SHADOW.
  
NOVEMBER.
  
CARMEN NATURÆ TRIUMPHALE.
  
INVOCATION TO SLEEP.
  
THE STORK AND THE RUBY.
  
[We are bent with age and cares]
  
PAIN IN AUTUMN.
  
THE FIRST SNOW.
  
THE ABDICATION OF NOMAN.
  
THE CHILDREN'S PRAYER.
  
[By the margent of the sea]
  
CHORIC HYMN.
  
THE FISHER AND CHARON.
  
GREAT AND SMALL.
  
THE POPLAR.
  
MISERRIMUS.
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THE SQUIRE OF LOW DEGREE.
  
[prologue]
  
[THE KING SPEAKS.]
  
[THE PRINCESS ANSWERS.]
  
[THE KING SPEAKS.]
  
[THE PRINCESS ANSWERS.]
  
[THE KING SPEAKS.]
  
[THE PRINCESS ANSWERS.]
  
IMOGEN.
  
THE FLAMINGO.
  
THE SERENADE OF MA-HAN-SHAN.
  
THE SLEDGE AT THE GATE.
  
THE GRAPE GATHERER.
  
SICILIAN PASTORAL.
  
[We parted in the streets of Ispahan]
  
THE SEARCH FOR PERSEPHONE.
  
ON A CHILD'S PICTURE.
  
THE KING'S BELL.
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THE BOOK OF THE EAST.
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LATER POEMS.

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[I know a little rose]

I know a little rose,
And O, but I were blest
Could I but be the drop of dew
That lies upon her breast.
But I dare not look so high,
Nor die a death so sweet;
It is enough for me to be
The dust about her feet!
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