Age poems
/ page 1 of 145 /
Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred
© Dylan Thomas
When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the N
© Alfred Tennyson
Poet of the happy Tityrus
piping underneath his beechen bowers;
Poet of the poet-satyr
whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers;
The Four Seasons
© Obi Nwakanma
The forest hugs them
carves them into stones,
Etches them into the slow
eastern landscape: rivers, hills
the slow running water,
times broken inscapes…
Lion and Honeycomb
© Howard Nemerov
He asked himself, poor moron, because he had
Nobody else to ask. The others went right on
Talking about form, talking about myth
And the (so help us) need for a modern idiom;
The verseballs among them kept counting syllables.
Modern Love XX: I Am Not of Those
© George Meredith
I am not of those miserable males
Who sniff at vice and, daring not to snap,
The Harvest Bow
© Seamus Justin Heaney
As you plaited the harvest bow
You implicated the mellowed silence in you
In wheat that does not rust
But brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A throwaway love-knot of straw.
Return
© Mihai Eminescu
"Forest, trusted friend and true,
Forest dear, how do you do?
Since the day i saw you last
Many, many years have passed
And though you still steadfast stand
I have traveled many a land."
Of Hope and Dinosaurs
© Syl Cheney-Coker
Always, we searched in the stone river,
while the slaughterhouse was waiting for us,
346. Song-Such a parcel of Rogues in a Nation
© Robert Burns
FAREWEEL to a’ our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
326. Song-The Posie
© Robert Burns
O LUVE will venture in where it daur na weel be seen,
O luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been;
But I will doun yon river rove, amang the wood sae green,
And a’ to pu’ a Posie to my ain dear May.
3. Song-I dream’d I lay
© Robert Burns
I DREAM’D I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam;
Dining Alone
© Zitner Sheldon
So all of you decided not to appearfor our usual at the usual time and place
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
© William Wordsworth
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)
© William Wordsworth
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
Out of the Dust
© Woodrow Constance
Out of the dust of all the past I came: My body is compact of memoriesOf other lives in other forms than this, And I am kin to birds and beasts and trees.
