Albert Pike

(1809-1891 / USA)

Albert Pike Poems

1. The Fine Arkansas Gentleman 2/24/2014
2. The Husband To His Wife 2/24/2014
3. Fragments From &Quot;The Brigand.&Quot; A Poem. Canto Iii 2/24/2014
4. Jane 2/24/2014
5. Song 2/24/2014
6. The Fall Of Poland 2/24/2014
7. Agapou Pneuma 2/24/2014
8. Hymn 2/24/2014
9. Love 2/24/2014
10. Fragments 2/24/2014
11. Disunion 2/24/2014
12. Apostrophe 2/24/2014
13. Lightning 2/24/2014
14. Fragments From &Quot;The Brigand.&Quot; A Poem. Canto Ii 2/24/2014
15. Monotone 2/24/2014
16. A Lament For Dixie 2/24/2014
17. Ode 2/24/2014
18. Song 2/24/2014
19. As The Season Come And Go 2/24/2014
20. Cleopatre 2/24/2014
21. The Waif Returned 2/24/2014
22. Wilt Thou On Thy Sweet Bosom Wear? 2/24/2014
23. When California Was A Foreign Land 2/24/2014
24. A Sonnet 2/24/2014
25. Oh, Jamie Brewed A Bowl O' Punch 2/24/2014
26. Cruiskeen Lan 2/24/2014
27. After Dinner 2/24/2014
28. The Answer 2/24/2014
29. Shelley 2/24/2014
30. To Ambition 2/24/2014
31. Death In The Desert 2/24/2014
32. Fragments From &Quot;The Brigand.&Quot; A Poem. Canto I 2/24/2014
33. Re-Union 2/24/2014
34. Brown October 2/24/2014
35. To The Moon 2/24/2014
36. Lines Written On The Mountains West Of The Rio Del Norte 2/24/2014
37. Gertrude 2/24/2014
38. A Dirge Over A Companion Killed By Oomanohes And Buried In The Prairie. 2/24/2014
39. Jubilate 2/24/2014
40. The Magnolia 2/24/2014

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Best Poem of Albert Pike

Home

Though the heart hath been sunken in folly and guilt—
Though its hopes and its joys on the earth have been spilt—
Though its course hath become like the cataract's foam—
Still, still it is holy, when thinking on Home.
Though its tears have been shed like the rains of the spring—
Though it may have grown loath to existence to cling—
Oh, still a sweet thought like a shadow will come,
When the eye of the mind turns again to its Home.

Though the fire of the heart may have withered its core
Unto ashes and dust—though the head have turned hoar
Ere its ...

Read the full of Home

The Husband To His Wife

Thy anguished bosom heaves no sigh,
So well it can its woes control;
Yet, gentle angel! how thine eye,
With its calm sadness, racks my soul.

I brought thee from thy happy home,
To wed with want and wretchedness;
And dost thou to my bosom come,
And him who made thee wretched bless?

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