Charles Kingsley

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

Charles Kingsley Poems

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

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

    poem or poet?

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • 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

A Farewell: To C.E.G

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;
Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I'll leave you,
For every day.

I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
Than lark who hails the dawn or breezy down;
To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
Than Shakespeare's crown.

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