Top 100 Poems About: LONELY
Top 100 Poems on / about
- carpe diem
1.Acquainted With The Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light. read more »Robert Frost
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty read more »Maya Angelou
3.A Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed
IF God compel thee to this destiny,
To die alone, with none beside thy bed
To ruffle round with sobs thy last word said
And mark with tears the pulses ebb from thee,-- read more »Elizabeth Barrett Browning
4.I Know Some Lonely Houses Off The Road
I know some lonely Houses off the Road
A Robber'd like the look of— read more »Emily Dickinson
5.The Little Black Boy
My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
White as an angel is the English child, read more »William Blake
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own. read more »Ella Wheeler Wilcox
THE human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion, read more »Charlotte Brontë
Knows he who tills this lonely field
To reap its scanty corn,
What mystic fruit his acres yield
At midnight and at morn? read more »Ralph Waldo Emerson
9.Speak Of The North! A Lonely Moor
Speak of the North! A lonely moor
Silent and dark and tractless swells,
The waves of some wild streamlet pour
Hurriedly through its ferny dells. read more »Charlotte Brontë
There were not many at that lonely place,
Where two scourged hills met in a little plain.
The wind cried loud in gusts, then low again.
Three pines strained darkly, runners in a race read more »Stephen Vincent Benet
Now it is Loneliness who comes at night
Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed.
Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread,
I watch her softly blowing out the light. read more »Katherine Mansfield
I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A mark in every face I meet, read more »William Blake