The Land of Story-books - Robert Louis Stevenson

At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.

The Vowels: An Enigma - Jonathan Swift

We are little airy creatures,
All of different voice and features;

The Djinns - Victor Hugo

              Town, tower,
              Shore, deep,
              Where lower
              Cliffs steep;
              Waves gray,
              Where play
              Winds gay,—
              All sleep.

Time’s Revenge - Agathias Scholasticus

She, who but late in beauty’s flower was seen,
Proud of her auburn curls and noble mien—

The cherubic pilgrim - Johann Scheffler

The soul wherein God dwells, —
What church could holier be? —
Becomes a walking tent
Of heavenly majesty.

The Welcome - Farīd ud-Dīn ʿAṭṭār

One night Shah Mahmúd, who had been of late
Somewhat distempered with Affairs of State,
Strolled through the Streets disguised, as wont to do—
And coming to the Baths, there on the Flue
Saw the poor Fellow who the Furnace fed
Sitting beside his Water-jug and Bread.

The Children’s Church - Karl von Gerock

The bells of the churches are ringing,—
  Papa and mamma have both gone,—
And three little children sit singing
  Together this still Sunday morn.

Kumudvati's wedding - Kālidāsa

I have no king; my towers and terraces
Crumble and fall; my walls are overthrown;
As when the ugly winds of evening seize
The rack of clouds in helpless darkness blown.

Frithiof at the Court of Angantyr - Esaias Tegnér

’Tis time to tell how Angantyr,
  The earl, was seated then
High in his hall of stately fir,
  Carousing with his men.
Thence he surveyed, in merry mood,
  The day-car as it rolled;
Now cleaving through the purple flood,
  All like a swan of gold.

At the wood's edge - Eduard Mörike

At the wood's edge I can lie for long afternoons
In the grass listening to the cuckoo;
It seems to lull the whole valley to sleep
With peaceful harmony of its laments.