Get Your Premium Membership

Best Famous Augustin Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Augustin poems. This is a select list of the best famous Augustin poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Augustin poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of augustin poems.

Search and read the best famous Augustin poems, articles about Augustin poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Augustin poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:
Written by Thomas Hardy | Create an image from this poem

An Ancient To Ancients

 Where once we danced, where once we sang, 
Gentlemen, 
The floors are sunken, cobwebs hang, 
And cracks creep; worms have fed upon 
The doors.
Yea, sprightlier times were then Than now, with harps and tabrets gone, Gentlemen! Where once we rowed, where once we sailed, Gentlemen, And damsels took the tiller, veiled Against too strong a stare (God wot Their fancy, then or anywhen!) Upon that shore we are clean forgot, Gentlemen! We have lost somewhat of that, afar and near, Gentlemen, The thinning of our ranks each year Affords a hint we are nigh undone, That shall not be ever again The marked of many, loved of one, Gentlemen.
In dance the polka hit our wish, Gentlemen, The paced quadrille, the spry schottische, "Sir Roger.
"--And in opera spheres The "Girl" (the famed "Bohemian"), And "Trovatore" held the ears, Gentlemen.
This season's paintings do not please, Gentlemen Like Etty, Mulready, Maclise; Throbbing romance had waned and wanned; No wizard wields the witching pen Of Bulwer, Scott, Dumas, and Sand, Gentlemen.
The bower we shrined to Tennyson, Gentlemen, Is roof-wrecked; damps there drip upon Sagged seats, the creeper-nails are rust, The spider is sole denizen; Even she who voiced those rhymes is dust, Gentlemen! We who met sunrise sanguine-souled, Gentlemen, Are wearing weary.
We are old; These younger press; we feel our rout Is imminent to A?des' den,-- That evening shades are stretching out, Gentlemen! And yet, though ours be failing frames, Gentlemen, So were some others' history names, Who trode their track light-limbed and fast As these youth, and not alien From enterprise, to their long last, Gentlemen.
Sophocles, Plato, Socrates, Gentlemen, Pythagoras, Thucydides, Herodotus, and Homer,--yea, Clement, Augustin, Origen, Burnt brightlier towards their setting-day, Gentlemen.
And ye, red-lipped and smooth-browed; list, Gentlemen; Much is there waits you we have missed; Much lore we leave you worth the knowing, Much, much has lain outside our ken; Nay, rush not: time serves: we are going, Gentlemen.


Written by Francesco Petrarch | Create an image from this poem

SONNET XXXII

SONNET XXXII.

S' amore o morte non dà qualche stroppio.

HE ASKS FROM A FRIEND THE LOAN OF THE WORKS OF ST.
AUGUSTIN.

If Love or Death no obstacle entwine
With the new web which here my fingers fold,
And if I 'scape from beauty's tyrant hold
While natural truth with truth reveal'd I join,
Perchance a work so double will be mine
Between our modern style and language old,
That (timidly I speak, with hope though bold)
Even to Rome its growing fame may shine:
But, since, our labour to perfèct at last
Some of the blessed threads are absent yet
Which our dear father plentifully met,
Wherefore to me thy hands so close and fast
Against their use? Be prompt of aid and free,
And rich our harvest of fair things shall be.
Macgregor.

Book: Shattered Sighs