Thomas Parnell Poems

  • 1.  
    Come hither, Boy, we'll hunt to Day
    The Book-Worm, ravening Beast of Prey, Produc'd by Parent Earth, at odds
  • 2.  
    In Britain's Isle and Arthur's days,
    When Midnight Faeries daunc'd the Maze, Liv'd Edwin of the Green;
  • 3.  
    When thy Beauty appears
    In its Graces and Airs, All bright as an Angel new dropt from the Sky;
  • 4.  
    Art thou alive? It cannot be,
    There's so much Rottenness in Thee, Corruption only is in Death;
  • 5.  
    Hark the thundring Drums inviting
    All our forward youth to arms Hark the trumpets sounds exciting
  • 6.  
    Now kind now coy wth how much change
    You feed my fierce desire As if to more extravagance
  • 7.  
    Happy the man whose firm resolves obtain
    Assisting Grace to burst his sinfull chain For him the Days with golden minutes glow
  • 8.  
    Hail to the sacred silence of this Grove
    Hail to the greens below the greens above Oft have I found beneath these shady trees
  • 9.  
    From Town fair Arabella flies,
    The Beaux unpowder'd grieve, The Rivers play before her eyes,
  • 10.  
    Vast was his soul some favorite above
    Whose bolder pencil made a boy of love A boy he thought him lovers less then boyes
  • 11.  
    This House and Inhabitants both well agree,
    And resemble each other as near can be; One half is decay'd, and in want of a Prop,
  • 12.  
    My days have been so wondrous free,
    The little birds that fly With careless ease from tree to tree,
  • 13.  
    How nicely fair Phillis you manage yr slave
    You neither reproach nor approve him Just keep him in play wth ye hopes wch you leave
  • 14.  
    O Tell if any fate you see
    Can more unhappy prove Than where the nymph will cruell be
  • 15.  
    Look mercyfully down O Lord
    & wash us from our sinn Cleanse us from wicked deeds without
  • 16.  
    When in the River Cows for Coolness stand,
    And Sheep for Breezes seek the lofty Land, A Youth whom Ã?sop taught that ev'ry Tree
  • 17.  
    Upon a Bed of humble clay
    In all her Garments loose A Prostitute my Mother lay
  • 18.  
    'Twas when the night in silent sable fled,
    When chearful morning sprung with rising red, When dreams and vapours leave to crowd the brain,
  • 19.  
    What ancient times (those times we fancy wise)
    Have left on long record of woman's rise, What morals teach it, and what fables hide,
  • 20.  
    Our Carys a Delicate Poet; for What?
    For having writt? No: but for having writ not.
  • 21.  
    When thy beauty appears
    In its graces and airs All bright as an angel new dropp'd from the sky,
  • 22.  
    See the star that leads the day
    Rising shoots a golden ray, To make the shades of darkness go
  • 23.  
    Health & advice an old acquaintance sends,
    Health & advice, the wish & debt of friends, Tis fitt I teach the templar how to thrive,
  • 24.  
    Relentless Time! destroying Pow'r
    Whom Stone and Brass obey, Who giv'st to ev'ry flying Hour
  • 25.  
    I look & in a moment run
    The poison thro' my veins Nor Celia think your self too young
  • 26.  
    Think England what it is to shake,
    & better use your King, His power raisd the frozen snake,
  • 27.  
    Hadst thou but livd before ye Gods were dead
    That Heathens ownd ye world might thus have said. 'If any settled seat ye Muses use
  • 28.  
    The morning opens very freshly gay
    And life itself is in the month of May. With green my fancy paints an arbour o'er
  • 29.  
    Mourn widdowd Iland, Mourn, your Pan is dead.
    Mourn ye unhappy flocks your Sheapherd Pan is fled; Around your grief in dolefull straines convey,
  • 30.  
    & tis too true alass! we find, he's gonn,
    Virtue from earth a second time is flown, She onely then with her two sisters flew,
  • 31.  
    How long ye miserable blind
    Shall idle dreams engage your mind, How long the passions make their flight
  • 32.  
    Thanks to the friend whose happy lines coud cheer
    In Derry's oaten soil frozen air When to the Citty late I bid farewell
  • 33.  
    Here Great Erasmus resteth all of thine
    That Death can touch or Monument confine Thy Hope and Virtue soard ye lofty sky
  • 34.  
    The sun is swiftly mounted high;
    It glitters in the southern sky; Its beams with force and glory beat,
  • 35.  
    Now Crowds more off, retiring trumpetts sound
    On Eccho's dying in their last rebound, The notes of fancy seem no longer strong,
  • 36.  
    Strephon & I upon a bank were laid,
    Where the gay spring in varied colours playd, & her rich odours lavish nature shed.
  • 37.  
    Thou Gaudy Idle world adieu,
    & all thy tinsell Joys; I lovd thee dearly once tis true,
  • 38.  
    To Henry, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke.

  • 39.  
    Compassion checks my spleen, yet Scorn denies
    The tears a passage thro' my swelling eyes; To laugh or weep at sins, might idly show,
  • 40.  
    The beam-repelling mists arise,
    And evening spreads obscurer skies; The twilight will the night forerun,
  • 41.  
    On verdurd trees ye silver blossoms grow
    Whose leaves atop their perfect whiteness show & faintly streak with stains of red below
  • 42.  
    To stifle Passion is no easy Thing,
    A Heart in Love is always on the Wing; The bold Betrayer flutters still,
  • 43.  
    As Pope who gathers mony to translate
    With Gay the Shepheard Writer mett of late. Says Pope, your Ecclogues wont come out wth speed
  • 44.  
    With Moral Tale let Ancient Wisdom move,
    Which thus I sing to make the Moderns wise: Strong Neptune once with sage Minerva strove,
  • 45.  
    Young Philomela's powrfull dart
    Two gentle shepheard's hitt With Beauty touchd Amintors heart
  • 46.  
    Then do not Cloe do not more
    Boast what success youve found Tis pride to tell your conquests ore
  • 47.  
    Now early Shepherds o'er the Meadow pass,
    And print long Foot-steps in the glittering Grass; The Cows neglectful of their Pasture stand,
  • 48.  
    Thyrsis, a young and am'rous Swain,
    Saw two, the Beauties of the Plain; Who both his Heart subdue:
  • 49.  
    A thoughtful Being, long and spare,
    Our Race of Mortals call him Care: (Were Homer living, well he knew
  • 50.  
    As Bacchus ranging at his leisure,
    (Io Bacchus! king of pleasure) Charm'd the wide world with drink and dances,
Total 120 poems written by Thomas Parnell

Poem of the day

Dusk In War Time
 by Sara Teasdale

A half-hour more and you will lean
To gather me close in the old sweet way-
But oh, to the woman over the sea
Who will come at the close of day?

A half-hour more and I will hear
The key in the latch and the strong, quick tread-
But oh, the woman over the sea
...

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