poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

About this Poem 

From Ballads and Songs (London: Cassell and Company, 1896).

 

COME TO THE GREENWOOD TREE.

      Come to the greenwood tree,
      Come where the dark woods be,
      Dearest, O come with me!
  Let us rove—O my love—O my love!

      Come—'tis the moonlight hour,
      Dew is on leaf and flower,
      Come to the linden bower,—
  Let us rove—O my love—O my love!

  Dark is the wood, and wide
  Dangers, they say, betide;
  But, at my Albert's side,
  Nought I fear, O my love—O my love!

  Welcome the greenwood tree,
  Welcome the forest free,
  Dearest, with thee, with thee,
  Nought I fear, O my love—O my love!

This poem is in the public domain. 

This poem is in the public domain. 

William Makepeace Thackeray

William Makepeace Thackeray, born July 18, 1811, was an English writer best known for his novels, particularly The History of Henry Esmond, Esq. (The Mershon Company Publishers, 1852) and Vanity Fair (Bradbury and Evans, 1848). While in school, Thackeray began writing poems, which he published in a number of magazines, chiefly Fraser and Punch. He died on December 24, 1863.

by this poet

poem
  Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill,
  And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill,
  Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot
  As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot—
  In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass,
  And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass
poem
     When fierce political debate
       Throughout the isle was storming,
     And Rads attacked the throne and state,
       And Tories the reforming,
     To calm the furious rage of each,
       And right the land demented,
     Heaven sent us Jolly Jack, to teach
      The way to be contented.

     Jack's
poem
  OR, THE CAGED HAWK.

 No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert-life for thee;
  No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free:
  Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with spurning of thy chain,
  Shatter against thy cage the wing thou ne'er may'st spread again.

  Long, sitting by their