Poetry in Victoria age (Puisi-puisi di era Victoria)

"Invictus" By William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

“The Eagle” By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

“Meeting at Night” By Robert Browning

I

The grey sea and the long black land;

And the yellow half-moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap

In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

As I gain the cove with pushing prow,

And quench its speed i' the slushy sand.

II

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, thro' its joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each!

“Longing”  by Matthew Arnold

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

“St. Agnes' Eve” By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Deep on the convent-roof the snows

         Are sparkling to the moon:

My breath to heaven like vapour goes;

         May my soul follow soon!

The shadows of the convent-towers

         Slant down the snowy sward,

Still creeping with the creeping hours

         That lead me to my Lord:

Make Thou my spirit pure and clear

         As are the frosty skies,

Or this first snowdrop of the year

         That in my bosom lies.

As these white robes are soil'd and dark,

         To yonder shining ground;

As this pale taper's earthly spark,

         To yonder argent round;

So shows my soul before the Lamb,

         My spirit before Thee;

So in mine earthly house I am,

         To that I hope to be.

Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,

         Thro' all yon starlight keen,

Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,

         In raiment white and clean.

He lifts me to the golden doors;

         The flashes come and go;

All heaven bursts her starry floors,

         And strows her lights below,

And deepens on and up! the gates

         Roll back, and far within

For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,

         To make me pure of sin.

The sabbaths of Eternity,

         One sabbath deep and wide—

A light upon the shining sea—

         The Bridegroom with his bride!