Sidney Lanier

(1842-1881 / Macon / Georgia)

Sidney Lanier Poems

1. To Richard Wagner. 4/6/2010
2. Tyranny. 4/6/2010
3. Remonstrance. 4/6/2010
4. Life And Song. 4/6/2010
5. To: Frau Nannette Falk-Auerbach 1/1/2004
6. Marsh Song -- At Sunset. 4/6/2010
7. The Ship Of Earth. 4/6/2010
8. The Golden Wedding Of Sterling And Sarah Lanier, September 27, 1868. 4/6/2010
9. On Violet's Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill 12/31/2002
10. Our Hills 12/31/2002
11. Laus Mariae 12/31/2002
12. Individuality. 4/6/2010
13. On A Palmetto 12/31/2002
14. Under The Cedarcroft Chestnut 12/31/2002
15. Opposition 12/31/2002
16. Sunrise 4/6/2010
17. On Huntingdon's "Miranda" 12/31/2002
18. The Centennial Cantata. 4/6/2010
19. To Dr. Thomas Shearer 12/31/2002
20. Laughter In The Senate 12/31/2002
21. My Springs 12/31/2002
22. The Tournament 12/31/2002
23. Night 12/31/2002
24. To Wilhelmina 12/31/2002
25. How Love Looked For Hell. 4/6/2010
26. The Stirrup-Cup 12/31/2002
27. Strange Jokes 12/31/2002
28. Jones's Porvate Argyment 12/31/2002
29. To Nannette Falk-Auerbach 12/31/2002
30. The Crystal 12/31/2002
31. The Marshes Of Glynn 4/6/2010
32. To My Class: On Certain Fruits And Flowers Sent Me In Sickness 12/31/2002
33. Nilsson 12/31/2002
34. A Song Of Love 4/6/2010
35. To J. D. H. 12/31/2002
36. The Battle Of Lexington 4/6/2010
37. The Harlequin Of Dreams 12/31/2002
38. To Beethoven 12/31/2002
39. To Charlotte Cushman 12/31/2002
40. The Dove 12/31/2002
Best Poem of Sidney Lanier

The Wedding

O marriage-bells, your clamor tells
Two weddings in one breath.
SHE marries whom her love compels:
-- And I wed Goodman Death!
My brain is blank, my tears are red;
Listen, O God: -- "I will," he said: --
And I would that I were dead.
Come groomsman Grief and bridesmaid Pain
Come and stand with a ghastly twain.
My Bridegroom Death is come o'er the meres
To wed a bride with bloody tears.
Ring, ring, O bells, full merrily:
Life-bells to her, death-bells to me:
O Death, I am true wife to thee!

Read the full of The Wedding

Control

O Hunger, Hunger, I will harness thee
And make thee harrow all my spirit's glebe.
Of old the blind bard Herve sang so sweet
He made a wolf to plow his land.

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