10 Best Famous Idyll (Idyl) Poems

Here is a collection of the top 10 all-time best famous Idyll (Idyl) poems. This is a select list of the best famous Idyll (Idyl) poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Idyll (Idyl) poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of idyll (idyl) poems.

• All Famous Idyll (Idyl) Poems

 Society for me my misery
Since Gift of Thee --

 A village Chorus is supposed to be assembled, and about to
commence its festive procession.

[Written for the birthday of the Duchess Louisa of Weimar.]

CHORUS.

THE festal day hail ye

With garlands of pleasure,

And dances' soft measure,
With rapture commingled
And sweet choral song.

DAMON.

Oh, how I yearn from out the crowd to flee!
What joy a secret glade would give to me!
Amid the throng, the turmoil here,
Confined the plain, the breezes e'en appear.

CHORUS.

Now order it truly,
That ev'ry one duly
May roam and may wander,
Now here, and now yonder,

The meadows along.

[The Chorus retreats gradually, and the song becomes fainter and
fainter, till it dies away in the distance.]

DAMON.

In vain ye call, in vain would lure me on;
True my heart speaks,--but with itself alone.

And if I may view

 A blessing-fraught land,

The heaven's clear blue,

And the plain's verdant hue,

Alone I'll rejoice,

Undisturbed by man's voice.


And there I'll pay homage

 To womanly merit,

 Observe it in spirit,

In spirit pay homage;

To echo alone

Shall my secret be known.


CHORUS.

[Faintly mingling with Damon's song in the distance.]

To echo--alone--

Shall my secret--be known.--

MENALCAS.

My friend, why meet I here with thee?

Thou hast'nest not to join the festal throng?
No longer stay, but come with me,

And mingle in the dance and song.

DAMON.

Thou'rt welcome, friend! but suffer me to roam

Where these old beeches hide me from man's view:
Love seeks in solitude a home,

And homage may retreat there too.

MENALCAS.

Thou seekest here a spurious fame,

And hast a mind to-day to grieve me.
Love as thy portion thou mayst claim

But homage thou must share with all, believe me!

When their voices thousands raise,
And the dawn of morning praise,

 Rapture bringing,

 Blithely singing

 On before us,
Heart and ear in pleasure vie;


 And when thousands join in chorus,

With the feelings brightly glowing,

And the wishes overflowing,
Forcibly they'll bear thee high.

[The Chorus gradually approaches, from the distance.]

DAMON.

Distant strains are hither wending,

And I'm gladden'd by the throng;
Yes, they're coming,--yes, descending

To the valley from the height,

MENALCAS.

Let us haste, our footsteps blending

With the rhythm of the song!
Yes, they come; their course they're bending

Tow'rd the wood's green sward so bright.

CHORUS.
[Gradually becoming louder.]

Yes, we hither come, attending

With the harmony of song,
As the hours their race are ending

On this day of blest delight.

ALL.

Let none reveal
The thoughts we feel,
The aims we own!
Let joy alone

Disclose the story!
She'll prove it right
And her delight

Includes the glory,
Includes the bliss
Of days like this!

 1813.

The sunlight fell with a golden gleam
  On the waves of the rippling rill;
The pansies nodded their purple heads;
  But the proud queen-rose stood still.
She loved the light and she loved the sun,
And the peaceful night when the day was done,
But the faithless sun in his careless way
Had broken her heart on that summer's day.
She had bathed her soul in his warm sweet, rays,
  She had given her life to him;
And her crimson heart—it was his alone—
  Of love it was full to the brim.
But a fairer bud in the garden of love
Had conquered the heart of the king above;
And the proud queen-rose on that summer's day
Had given a love that was thrown away.
The pansies laughed in the summer breeze,
  For they were so happy and free;
And the lilies swayed in the waving grass,
  Like sails on an emerald sea.
But the sun glanced down with a mocking light,
And the heart of the rose stood still at the sight,
For never again with its love for him
Would her crimson heart be filled to the brim.
"Ah me!" she sighed, as she drooped her head,
  "How vain is my haughty will;
I sought to mate with the sun above,
  But lo! I am mortal still.
I envy the pansy that nods at my feet,
For though she is lowly, her life is sweet;
And I envy the lily, for she is glad,
And knows not the longings that make me sad."
A maiden sat where the pansies grew,
  In a golden shower of light;
And she heard the words of the sighing rose,
  Borne near in the wind's swift flight.
"Ah, rose!" she cried, "I am like to you;
There's never a heart in this world that's true;
I yielded a love that's thrown away,
And I'm weary of life on this summer's day.
"But listen, my rose, and I'll tell you, sweet,
  The lesson I learned to-day;
There's never a heart in this wide, wide world
  That was born to be thrown away.
The sun may smile as he sails away
In the depths of his azure seas for aye;
But the rose that blooms in the garden of love,
Is as fair as the sun to our God above.
"The smallest flower that slakes her thirst
  In the dews of the early morn,
Is as great as the stars in heaven above,
  The greatest that ever was born.
The love we give on this earth of ours
Is treasured in heaven through all the hours,
And the crimson heart of the proud queen-rose
Is as fair a gem as the earth-land knows."
The queen-rose listened and held her breath
  As the maiden passed her by,
And then, with a grace that was fearless and grand
  She lifted her face to the sky.
And never again, when the day was done,
Did she long for the love of the golden sun;
For the lesson she learned on that summer's day
Lay deep in her heart forever and aye.

 AN IDYLL


Back from the Somme two Fusiliers 
Limped painfully home; the elder said, 
S. “Robert, I’ve lived three thousand years 
This Summer, and I’m nine parts dead.” 
R. “But if that’s truly so,” I cried, “quick, now,
Through these great oaks and see the famous bough 

”Where once a nonsense built her nest 
With skulls and flowers and all things *****, 
In an old boot, with patient breast 
Hatching three eggs; and the next year…”
S. “Foaled thirteen squamous young beneath, and rid 
Wales of drink, melancholy, and psalms, she did.” 

Said he, “Before this quaint mood fails, 
We’ll sit and weave a nonsense hymn,” 
R. “Hanging it up with monkey tails
In a deep grove all hushed and dim….” 
S. “To glorious yellow-bunched banana-trees,” 
R. “Planted in dreams by pious Portuguese,” 

S. “Which men are wise beyond their time, 
And worship nonsense, no one more.”
R. “Hard by, among old quince and lime, 
They’ve built a temple with no floor,” 
S. “And whosoever worships in that place, 
He disappears from sight and leaves no trace.” 

R. “Once the Galatians built a fane
To Sense: what duller God than that?” 
S. “But the first day of autumn rain 
The roof fell in and crushed them flat.” 
R. “Ay, for a roof of subtlest logic falls 
When nonsense is foundation for the walls.”

I tell him old Galatian tales; 
He caps them in quick Portuguese, 
While phantom creatures with green scales 
Scramble and roll among the trees. 
The hymn swells; on a bough above us sings
A row of bright pink birds, flapping their wings.

 I SEE in you the estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours in the great
 Sea.

 In the grey summer garden I shall find you 
With day-break and the morning hills behind you. 
There will be rain-wet roses; stir of wings; 
And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings. 
Not from the past you’ll come, but from that deep
Where beauty murmurs to the soul asleep: 
And I shall know the sense of life re-born 
From dreams into the mystery of morn 
Where gloom and brightness meet. And standing there 
Till that calm song is done, at last we’ll share
The league-spread, quiring symphonies that are 
Joy in the world, and peace, and dawn’s one star.

 On Western plains, where shade is not, 
'Neath summer skies of cloudless blue, 
Where all is dry and all is hot, 
There stands the town of Dandaloo -- 
A township where life's total sum 
Is sleep, diversified with rum. 
Its grass-grown streets with dust are deep; 
'Twere vain endeavour to express 
The dreamless silence of its sleep, 
Its wide, expansive drunkenness. 
The yearly races mostly drew 
A lively crowd at Dandaloo. 

There came a sportsman from the East, 
The eastern land where sportsmen blow, 
And brought with him a speedy beast -- 
A speedy beast as horses go. 
He came afar in hope to "do" 
The little town of Dandaloo. 

Now this was weak of him, I wot -- 
Exceeding weak, it seemed to me -- 
For we in Dandaloo were not 
The Jugginses we seemed to be; 
In fact, we rather thought we knew 
Our book by heart in Dandaloo. 

We held a meeting at the bar, 
And met the question fair and square -- 
"We've stumped the country near and far 
To raise the cash for races here; 
We've got a hundred pounds or two -- 
Not half so bad for Dandaloo. 

"And now, it seems we have to be 
Cleaned out by this here Sydney bloke, 
With his imported horse; and he 
Will scoop the pool and leave us broke. 
Shall we sit still, and make no fuss 
While this chap climbs all over us?" 

* 

The races came to Dandaloo, 
And all the cornstalks from the West 
On every kind of moke and screw 
Come forth in all their glory drest. 
The stranger's horse, as hard as nails, 
Look'd fit to run for New South Wales. 

He won the race by half a length -- 
Quite half a length, it seemed to me -- 
But Dandaloo, with all its strength, 
Roared out "Dead heat!" most fervently; 
And, sfter hesitation meet, 
The judge's verdict was "Dead heat!" 

And many men there were could tell 
What gave the verdict extra force. 
The stewards -- and the judge as well -- 
They all had backed the second horse. 
For things like this they sometimes do 
In larger towns than Dandaloo. 

They ran it off, the stranger won, 
Hands down, by near a hundred yards. 
He smiled to think his troubles done; 
But Dandaloo held all the cards. 
They went to scale and -- cruel fate -- 
His jockey turned out under weight. 

Perhaps they's tampered with the scale! 
I cannot tell. I only know 
It weighed him out all right. I fail 
To paint that Sydney sportsman's woe. 
He said the stewards were a crew 
Of low-lived thieves in Dandaloo. 

He lifted up his voice, irate, 
And swore till all the air was blue; 
So then we rose to vindicate 
The dignity of Dandaloo. 
"Look here," said we, "you must not poke 
Such oaths at us poor country folk." 

We rode him softly on a rail, 
We shied at him, in careless glee, 
Some large tomatoes, rank and stale, 
And eggs of great antiquity -- 
Their wild, unholy fregrance flew 
About the town of Dandaloo. 

He left the town at break of day, 
He led his racehorse through the streets, 
And now he tells the tale, they say, 
To every racing man he meets. 
And Sydney sportsmen all eschew 
The atmosphere of Dandaloo.

 Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great.
Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
For man is man and master of his fate.

Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

 Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud;
Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. 

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown;
With that wild wheel we go not up or down;
Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. 

Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands;
Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands;
For man is man and master of his fate. 

Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd;
Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

 THOU reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I, 
Therefore for thee the following chants.