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James Thomson - (Bysshe Vanolis)
November 23, 1834 - June 3, 1882
Poetry Listing
Please Note: This list is not comprehensive, but is an ongoing work of the love of poetry.
Within this area you will be able to read, and give your thoughts on the poetry listed.
Please, if you find an error, let me know.
Read More About James Thomson - (Bysshe Vanolis) below poetry list
| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads | | 1: | A Chant | While the trees grow, While the streams flow, | 1857 | 8 | 1110 | | 2: | A Polish Insurgent | What would you have? said I; | 1863 | 61 | 1005 | | 3: | A Recusant | The church stands there beyond the orchard-blooms: | | 14 | 1003 | | 4: | A Song of Sighing | Would some little joy to-day Visit us, heart! | 1866 | 25 | 913 | | 5: | Art | What precious thing are you making fast | 1865 | 52 | 1093 | | 6: | At Belvoir | My thoughts go back to last July, | | 112 | 972 | | 7: | Attempts at Translation from Heine | At the window stood the mother, | | 394 | 1041 | | 8: | E. B. B. | The white-rose garland at her feet, | 1867 | 24 | 996 | | 9: | For I Must Sing of All I Feel and Know | For I must sing of all I feel and know, | 1857 | 30 | 801 | | 10: | Four Points in a Life | Still thine eyes haunt me; in the darkness now, | 1857 | 149 | 790 | | 11: | From the Midst of the Fire | From the midst of the fire I fling | 1863 | 8 | 764 | | 12: | He Heard Her Sing | We were now in the midmost Maytime, in the full green flood of the Spring, | 1882 | 194 | 903 | | 13: | In a Christian Churchyard | This field of stones, he said, | 1871 | 4 | 914 | | 14: | In The Room | The sun was down, and twilight grey | 1868 | 210 | 1024 | | 15: | In the Train | As we rush, as we rush in the Train, | | 12 | 827 | | 16: | Insomnia | I heard the sounding of the midnight hour; | 1882 | 303 | 859 | | 17: | Life’s Hebe | In the early morning-shine | 1866 | 64 | 993 | | 18: | Lilah, Alice, Hypatia | Who was Lilah? I am sure She was young and sweet and pure; | 1869 | 18 | 780 | | 19: | Lines on His Twenty-Third Birthday | Last evening's huge lax clouds of turbid white | 1857 | 152 | 768 | | 20: | L’Ancien Régime; or The Good Old Rule | Who has a thing to bring | 1867 | 90 | 957 | | 21: | Mater Tenebrarum | In the endless nights, from my bed, where sleepless in anguish I lie, | 1859 | 32 | 816 | | 22: | Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall | Who lectures? No mere scorner; | 1866 | 64 | 757 | | 23: | Night | He cried out through the night: | | 21 | 798 | | 24: | On George Herbert's Poems | What are these leaves dark-spotted and acerb? | 1862 | 6 | 802 | | 25: | Once in a Saintly Passion | Once in a saintly passion | 1869 | 8 | 804 | | 26: | Philosophy | His eyes found nothing beautiful and bright, | 1866 | 55 | 1003 | | 27: | Robert Burns | He felt scant need Of church or creed, | | 25 | 928 | | 28: | Song | The Nightingale was not yet heard, | 1877 | 24 | 927 | | 29: | Suggested by Matthew Arnold's Stanzas - Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse | That one long dirge-moan sad and deep, | 1855 | 307 | 731 | | 30: | Sunday at Hampstead | This is the Heath of Hampstead, | | 337 | 967 | | 31: | Sunday Up the River:1 | I looked out into the morning, | 1865 | 428 | 954 | | 32: | The Approach to St. Paul's | Eastwards through busy streets I lingered on; | 1855 | 14 | 951 | | 33: | The City of Dreadful Night | Lo, thus, as prostrate, “In the dust I write | 1882 | 1141 | 1022 | | 34: | The Doom of a City, Part I - The Voyage | From out the house I crept, | | 350 | 748 | | 35: | The Fire That Filled My Heart of Old | The fire that filled my heart of old | 1864 | 20 | 776 | | 36: | The Lord of the Castle of Indolence | Nor did we lack our own right royal king, | 1859 | 108 | 971 | | 37: | The Naked Goddess | Through the country to the town | 1867 | 321 | 986 | | 38: | The Three That Shall Be One | Love on the earth alit, Come to be Lord of it; | 1863 | 64 | 958 | | 39: | Through Foulest Fogs | Through foulest fogs of my own sluggish soul, | | 14 | 745 | | 40: | To a Pianiste | I saw thee once, I see thee now; | | 18 | 927 | | 41: | To H.A.B. on My Forty-Seventh Birthday | When one is forty years and seven, | 1881 | 40 | 754 | | 42: | To Our Ladies of Death 1 | Weary of erring in this desert Life, | 1861 | 226 | 887 | | 43: | Two Lovers | Their eyes met; flashed an instant like swift swords | | 124 | 854 | | 44: | Two Sonnets | Why are your songs all wild and bitter sad | 1860 | 28 | 776 | | 45: | Virtue and Vice | She was so good, and he was so bad | 1865 | 42 | 1060 | | 46: | William Blake | He came to the desert of London town | 1866 | 16 | 825 |
About:
James Thomson (November 23, 1834 - June 3, 1882), published under the pseudonym Bysshe Vanolis, was a Victorian-era British poet famous primarily for the long poem The City of Dreadful Night (1874), an expression of bleak pessimism in a dehumanized, uncaring urban environment.
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