Age poems

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X. On Dover Cliffs.

© William Lisle Bowles

ON these white cliffs, that calm above the flood

Rear their o'er-shadowing heads, and at their feet

Even if one had told me this,
"A poison lurks within your kiss,
Gall that shall turn to night his day:"
Thereon I straight had turned away--
Ay, tho' my heart had crack'd with pain--
And never kiss'd your lips again.

Eclogue IV

© Virgil

POLLIO

Muses of Sicily, essay we now

Moreton Bay

© Anonymous

One Sunday morning, as I went walking,

By Brisbane waters I chanced to stray.

Last Words

© Amy Levy

These blossoms that I bring,
This song that here I sing,
These tears that now I shed,
I give unto the dead.

A Wall Flower

© Amy Levy

My spirit rises to the music's beat;
There is a leaden fiend lurks in my feet!
To move unto your motion, Love, were sweet.

A Dirge

© Amy Levy

There's May amid the meadows,
There's May amid the trees;
Her May-time note the cuckoo
Sends forth upon the breeze.

The Needless Alarm. A Tale

© William Cowper

Moral
Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passd away.

Bakhchisaray

© Adam Mickiewicz

Those halls of the Gireys - still vast and great! -
Are galleries where desolation falls;
Those varicolored domes, those crumbling halls
Where proud pashas upon rich divans sate:

Punctilio

© Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

O LET me be in loving nice,
Dainty, fine, and oer precise,
That I may charm my charmàd dear
As tho I felt a secret fear

Come To Me

© George MacDonald

Come to me, come to me, O my God;
Come to me everywhere!
Let the trees mean thee, and the grassy sod,
And the water and the air!

Had I a Heart for Falsehood Framed

© Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Had I a heart for falsehood framed,

I ne'er could injure you;

The Double Ninth

© Mao Zedong

Man ages all too easily, not Nature;

Year by year the Double Ninth returns.

Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.

My full design with vast expense achieved,
I came, beheld, admired, reflected, grieved:
I chid the folly of my thoughtless haste,
For, the work perfected, the joy was past.

The Train Misser

Prosecuted-- and that's jes what--!
How'd I know which train's fer me?
And how'd I know which train was not--?
Goern and comin' and gone astray,
And backin' and switchin' ever'-which-way!

The Noble Moringer

I.
O, will you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian day,
It was the noble Moringer in wedlock bed he lay;
He halsed and kiss'd his dearest dame, that was as sweet as May,
And said, "Now, lady of my heart, attend the words I say.