Age poems
/ page 122 of 145 /
Wallace Ferguson
© Edgar Lee Masters
There at Geneva where Mt. Blanc floated above
The wine-hued lake like a cloud, when a breeze was blown
Out of an empty sky of blue, and the roaring Rhone
Hurried under the bridge through chasms of rock;
Henry Phipps
© Edgar Lee Masters
I was the Sunday school superintendent,
The dummy president of the wagon works
And the canning factory,
Acting for Thomas Rhodes and the banking clique;
Willie Pennington
© Edgar Lee Masters
They called me the weakling, the simpleton,
For my brothers were strong and beautiful,
While I, the last child of parents who had aged,
Inherited only their residue of power.
Thursos Landing
© Robinson Jeffers
In the night Reave dreamed that Helen
Lay with him in the deep grave, he awoke loathing her,
But when the weak moment between sleep and waking
Was past, his need of her and his judgment of her
Knew their suspended duel; and he heard her breathing,
Irregularly, gently in the dark.
The Treasure
© Robinson Jeffers
Mountains, a moment's earth-waves rising and hollowing; the
earth too's an ephemerid; the stars-
Edith Conant
© Edgar Lee Masters
We stand about this place -- we, the memories;
And shade our eyes because we dread to read:
"June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days."
And all things are changed.
Past One O'Clock, shorter version
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
Past one o'clock. You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
Recorders Ages Hence
© Walt Whitman
RECORDERS ages hence!
Come, I will take you down underneath this impassive exterior-I will
The Widow Of Crescentius : Part I.
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,
Bright-foaming falls, and olive shades,
A December Day
© Robert Fuller Murray
Blue, blue is the sea to-day,
Warmly the light
Sleeps on St. Andrews Bay -
Blue, fringed with white.
The Poet VIII
© Khalil Gibran
He is a link between this and the coming world.
He is
A pure spring from which all thirsty souls may drink.
The Playground of Life XIX
© Khalil Gibran
One hour devoted to the pursuit of Beauty
And Love is worth a full century of glory
Given by the frightened weak to the strong.
The Life of Love XVI
© Khalil Gibran
Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment
And placed it on the peach and citrus trees; and
They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of
the Night of Kedre.
The Beauty of Death XIV
© Khalil Gibran
Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired;
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit;
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.
Deptford
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Well is it, shrouded Sun, thou spar'st no ray
To illumine this sad street! A light more bare
Would but discover more this bald array
Of roofs dejected, window patched that stare
Song of Love XXIV
© Khalil Gibran
I am the lover's eyes, and the spirit's
Wine, and the heart's nourishment.
I am a rose. My heart opens at dawn and
The virgin kisses me and places me
Upon her breast.
A Lover's Call XXVII
© Khalil Gibran
Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?
The Masque Of Pandora
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.
