James Thomson

[Bysshe Vanolis] (23 November 1834 - 3 June 1882 / Port Glasgow, Scotland)

James Thomson Poems

1. A Chant 5/6/2012
2. A Polish Insurgent 5/6/2012
3. A Recusant 5/6/2012
4. A Song Of Sighing 1/3/2003
5. Approach To St. Paul's 1/3/2003
6. Art 1/3/2003
7. Day 1/3/2003
8. E.B.B. 5/6/2012
9. For I Must Sing Of All I Feel And Know 1/3/2003
10. Four Points In A Life 1/3/2003
11. From The Midst Of The Fire 5/6/2012
12. Gifts 1/3/2003
13. In A Christian Churchyard 1/3/2003
14. In The Room 1/3/2003
15. In The Train 1/3/2003
16. Insomnia 5/6/2012
17. L'Ancien Regime 1/3/2003
18. Life's Hebe 5/6/2012
19. Lilah, Alice, Hypatia 5/6/2012
20. Lines On His Twenty-Third Birthday 5/6/2012
21. Mater Tenebrarum 1/3/2003
22. Mr. Maccall At Cleveland Hall 1/3/2003
23. Night 1/3/2003
24. On George Herbert's Poems 5/6/2012
25. Once In A Saintly Passion 1/3/2003
26. Philosophy 1/3/2003
27. Proem 1/3/2003
28. Suggested By Matthew Arnold's Stanzas 1/3/2003
29. Sunday At Hampstead 1/3/2003
30. The City Of Dreadful Night 1/3/2003
31. The Doom Of A City 5/6/2012
32. The Doom Of A City Part Ii: The City 5/6/2012
33. The Fire That Filled My Heart Of Old 1/3/2003
34. The Lord Of The Castle Of Indolence 5/6/2012
35. The Naked Goddess 1/3/2003
36. The Vine 1/3/2003
37. Through Foulest Fogs 5/6/2012
38. To A Pianiste 5/6/2012
39. To H.A.B. On My Forty-Seventh Birthday 5/6/2012
40. Two Lovers 1/3/2003

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  • Pootis (12/15/2017 8:51:00 AM)

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Best Poem of James Thomson

The City Of Dreadful Night

Per me si va nella citta dolente.

--Dante

Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti
D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,
Girando senza posa,
Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;
Uso alcuno, alcun frutto
Indovinar non so.

Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve
Ogni creata cosa,
In te, morte, si posa
Nostra ignuda natura;
Lieta no, ma sicura
Dell' antico dolor . . .
Pero ch' esser beato
Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

--Leopardi

PROEM

Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write
My heart's deep languor and my ...

Read the full of The City Of Dreadful Night

Sunday At Hampstead

I

(AN VERY IDLE IDYLL BY A VERY HUMBLE MEMBER OF THE GREAT AND NOBLE LONDON MOB.)

This is the Heath of Hampstead,
This is the Dome of Saint Paul’s;
Beneath, on the serried house-tops,
A chequered luster falls:

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