Walter Richard Cassels

(1826-1907 / England)

Walter Richard Cassels Poems

1. Memnon 10/11/2010
2. Orion 10/11/2010
3. Orpheus 10/11/2010
4. Sea Margins 10/11/2010
5. Serenade 10/11/2010
6. Song I 10/11/2010
7. Song Ii 10/11/2010
8. Sonnet 10/11/2010
9. Sonnet - Datur Hora Quieti 10/11/2010
10. Sonnet I - On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington 10/11/2010
11. Sonnet Ii - On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington 10/11/2010
12. Sonnet Iii - On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington 10/11/2010
13. Sonnet Iii - On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington 10/11/2010
14. Sonnet Iv - On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington 10/11/2010
15. Spring 10/11/2010
16. Star In The East 10/11/2010
17. The Bell 10/11/2010
18. The Bittern 10/11/2010
19. The Dark River 10/11/2010
20. The Delectable Mountains 10/11/2010
21. The Eagle 10/11/2010
22. The Golden Water 10/11/2010
23. The Land's End 10/11/2010
24. The Morning Star 10/11/2010
25. A Challenge 10/11/2010
26. A Conceit 10/11/2010
27. A Dirge 10/11/2010
28. A Night Scene 10/11/2010
29. A Shell 10/11/2010
30. A Withered Rose-Bud 10/11/2010
31. At Parting 10/11/2010
32. Beatrice Di Tenda 10/11/2010
33. Floating Down The River 10/11/2010
34. Gone 10/11/2010
35. Guy Of Warwick 10/11/2010
36. Hebe 10/11/2010
37. The Olden Time 10/11/2010
38. The Passage-Birds 10/11/2010
39. The Raven 10/11/2010
40. To My Dream-Love 10/11/2010
Best Poem of Walter Richard Cassels

Llewellyn

The tale is pitiful. 'Twas on this wise--
Llewellyn went at morn among the hills,
To hunt, as is his use. My lady, too,
With all her maidens, early sallied forth,
A pilgrimage among the neighbouring vales,
Culling of simples, nor yet comes she home;
And so the child lay sleeping in his crib,
With Gelert--you remember the old hound?
He pull'd the stag of ten down by the Holy Well--
With Gelert set to watch him like a nurse.

MONK.

The dog alone? nay! friend, but that is strange!

MORGAN.

Strange! Not a whit, for fifty times before
The ...

Read the full of Llewellyn

A Shell

From what rock-hollow'd cavern deep in ocean,
Where jagged columns break the billow's beat,
Whirl'd upward by some wild mid-world commotion,
Has this rose-tinted shell steer'd to my feet?

Perchance the wave that bore it has rejoiced
Above Man's founder'd hopes, and shatter'd pride,
Whilst fierce Euroclydon swept, trumpet-voiced,
Through the frail spars, and hurl'd them in the tide,

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