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Yee yee! We've found 797 poems matching aid.

Eclogue the Fourth Agib
William Taylor Collins
love inclined, Each swain was blest, for every maid was kind! At that still hour, when awful midnRate it:

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Economy, A Rhapsody, Addressed to Young Poets
William Shenstone
before this calf of gold; Implore his envious aid, and meet his frown! But 'tis not Gomez, 'tis notRate it:

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El Mahdi to the Australian Troops
Andrew Barton Paterson
for tyranny and wrong, To crush the weak and aid the oppressing strong! Regardless of the haplessRate it:

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Election Day
Ambrose Bierce
pate; No longer, the dull understanding to aid, The stomach accepts the instructive blade, Nor the Rate it:

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Elegiac Stanzas
William Wordsworth
to thy cold clay Fit obsequies the Stranger paid; And piety shall guard the Stone Which hath notRate it:

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Elegy IV. Anno Aet. 18. To My Tutor, Thomas Young, Chaplain Of The English Merchants Resident At Hamburg (Translated From Milton)
William Cowper
and receiving from a foreign hand The aid denied thee in thy native land. Oh, ruthless country, andRate it:

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Elegy On Partridge
Jonathan Swift
Venus in aspect malign; Then call in Mercury for aid, And cure the wounds that Venus made. Great scRate it:

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Elegy V. Anno Aet. 20. On The Approach Of Spring (Translated From Milton)
William Cowper
that with his influence glows, And shall be paid with what himself bestows. Thou, veil'd with op'niRate it:

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Elegy Written in a Country Coal-Bin
Christopher Morley
poor.' Though in the icebox, fresh and newly laid, The rude forefathers of the omlet sleep, No eRate it:

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Elegy XIII. To a Friend, On Some Slight Occasion Estranged From Him
William Shenstone
rapine, fraud, and wrong: Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore! Why leave thy friend amidRate it:

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Elegy XIV. Declining an Invitation To Visit Foreign Countries
William Shenstone
mine, To shed its lustre o'er th' Iberian maid; Mien, beauty, shape, O native soil! are thine; Thy Rate it:

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Elegy XVI. He Suggests the Advantage of Birth To a Person of Merit
William Shenstone
as wild Fancy taught her, thus she said: 'Hear me, dear Youth! oh, bear an hapless maid, Sprung frRate it:

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Elegy XX. He Compares His Humble Fortune With the Distress of Others
William Shenstone
they tell, and brighter climes, Where gentle maids, convey'd by Death, repair, But stain'd with bloRate it:

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Elegy XXII. Written in the Year ----, When the Rights of Sepulture Were So Frequently Violated
William Shenstone
day, Entomb'd beneath the grass-green sod was laid. No more her eyes their wonted radiance cast, NRate it:

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Elegy XXV. To Delia, With Some Flowers
William Shenstone
it shine, To hear it grateful own the generous aid: This, this is transport-but must ne'er be mine.Rate it:

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Eloisa to Abelard
Alexander Pope
first taught letters for some wretch's aid, Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid; They live, tRate it:

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Endymion: Book II
John Keats
her fancy from its maiden snow, Doth more avail than these: the silver flow Of Hero's tears, the swRate it:

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England And Spain
Felicia Dorothea Hemans
to the fight; Lo! Britain's generous host their aid supply, Resolved for thee to triumph or to die!Rate it:

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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
George Gordon Lord Byron
of little men! The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes Of brains that labour, big with verseRate it:

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Epilogue To Tancred And Sigismunda
James Thomson
Match'd with two husbands, and yet—die a maid. But bless me!—hold—What sounds are these I hear!— Rate it:

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Epistle To The Honourable C. B.
James Beattie
to dine Next week with B***. Muse, lend thine aid a while; For this great purpose claims a lofty stRate it:

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Epitaph on Sir Thomas Hanmer, Bart.
Samuel Johnson
heart. Thus early wise, the endanger'd real to aid, His country call'd him from the studious shade;Rate it:

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Erico
Robert William Service
affection sue, And then with surgeons artful aid Transform yourself into a maid? So now in petticoaRate it:

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Fable L: The Hare and Many Friends
John Gay
were to hares. 'There is the sheep,' he said, 'with fleece. Adapted, now, to your release.' The shRate it:

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Fanscomb Barn
Anne Kingsmill Finch
rais'd, Nor so contented, wish'd sublimer Aid. Ye Wits! (he cry'd) ye Poets! (Loiterers vain, WhRate it:

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