Thomas Babington Macaulay Poems

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Thomas Babington Macaulay
Thomas Babington Macaulay, 1st Baron Macaulay, PC (25 October 1800 28 December 1859) was a nineteenth-century English poet, historian and Whig politician and Member of Parliament for Edinburgh. He wrote extensively as an essayist and reviewer, and on British history. The son of Zachary Macaulay, a Scottish Highlander who became a colonial governor and abolitionist, Thomas was born in Leicestershire, England, and educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. Macaulay was noted as a child prodigy. As a toddler, gazing out the window from his cot at the chimneys of a local factory, he is reputed to have put the question to his mother: "Does the smoke from those chimneys come from the fires of hell?" Whilst at Cambridge he wrote much poetry and won several prizes. In 1825 he published a prominent essay on Milton in the Edinburgh Review. In 1826 he was called to the bar but showed more interest in a political than a legal career.

the house on the hill
 
 
They are all gone away,
The house is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.
... [read poem]
luke havergal
 
 
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,
An... [read poem]
the mill
 
 
The miller's wife had waited long,
The tea was cold, the fire was dead;
And there might ye... [read poem]
the gift of god -
 
 
Blessed with a joy that only she
Of all alive shall ever know,
She wears a proud humility... [read poem]
richard cory
 
 
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a ge... [read poem]
walt whitman
 
 
The master-songs are ended, and the man
That sang them is a name. And so is God
A name; an... [read poem]
miniver cheevy
 
 
Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
Grew lean while he assailed the seasons
He wept that he... [read poem]
horatius
 
 
A Lay Made About the Year Of The City CCCLX

I

Lars Porsena of Closium
By ... [read poem]
aaron stark
 
 
Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, --
Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose.... [read poem]
dies irae
 
 
On that great, that awful day,
This vain world shall pass away.
Thus the sibyl sang of old... [read poem]
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