Charles Kingsley

(12 June 1819 – 23 January 1875 / Devon, England)

Charles Kingsley Poems

41. A Lament 4/15/2010
42. The Longbeard's Saga: A.D. 400 4/15/2010
43. The Legend Of La Brea 4/15/2010
44. The Starlings 4/15/2010
45. Dolcino To Margaret 4/15/2010
46. The Tide Rock 4/15/2010
47. The Invitation: To Tom Hughes 4/15/2010
48. Christmas Day 4/15/2010
49. The Find 4/15/2010
50. Juventus Mundi 4/15/2010
51. On The Death Of Leopold: King Of The Belgians 4/15/2010
52. The Knight's Return 4/15/2010
53. The Dead Church 4/15/2010
54. The Summer Sea 4/15/2010
55. Elegiacs 4/15/2010
56. A New Forest Ballad 4/15/2010
57. The Ugly Princess 4/15/2010
58. Down To The Mothers 4/15/2010
59. The Poetry Of A Root Crop 4/15/2010
60. A Parable From Liebig 4/15/2010
61. Andromeda 4/15/2010
62. The Tide River 4/15/2010
63. A Hope 4/15/2010
64. 21st September 1870 4/15/2010
65. The Old, Old Song 4/15/2010
66. Drifting Away: A Fragment 4/15/2010
67. Alton Locke's Song 4/15/2010
68. Dartside, 1849 1/3/2003
69. Valentine's Day 4/15/2010
70. Child Ballad 4/15/2010
71. Ballad Of Earl Haldan's Daughter 4/15/2010
72. Oh! That We Two Were Maying 12/31/2002
73. Ballad: Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree 4/15/2010
74. The Last Buccaneer 1/1/2004
75. A Myth 1/1/2004
76. Ode To The Northeast Wind 1/3/2003
77. Lorraine 1/1/2004
78. Airly Beacon 1/3/2003
79. The Three Fishers 12/31/2002
80. Easter Week 1/3/2003

Comments about Charles Kingsley

  • Stephanie (1/10/2018 9:03:00 AM)

    I like the poem the violet.

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  • Ali Baba Ali Baba (7/1/2014 8:23:00 AM)

    poem or poet?

  • Pakpoom Phuto (7/13/2005 4:14:00 AM)

    This poem is good.
    what is main ideas?

Best Poem of Charles Kingsley

A Farewell

I

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and grey:
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.

II

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever
One grand, sweet song.

Read the full of A Farewell

Lorraine

“ARE you ready for your steeplechase, Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorree?
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.
You’re booked to ride your capping race to-day at Coulterlee,
You’re booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to see,
To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the run for me.”
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

She clasp’d her newborn baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe,
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.

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