Age poems
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Paracelsus: Part IV: Paracelsus Aspires
© Robert Browning
Festus.
So strange
That I must hope, indeed, your messenger
Has mingled his own fancies with the words
Purporting to be yours.
Apparition (1)
© Louis Honoré Fréchette
J'étais allé parer ma chaloupe côtière,
Sur la pointe, là-bas, en amont des brisants,
Pour un voyage au Bic. D'après les médisants,
Dieu voulut me punir, car c'était un dimanche.
Pas plus de vent que sur la main ; mais en revanche,
Un brouillard, mes enfants, à couper au couteau.
Choer D'Esther
© Jean Racine
Il a vu contre nous les mechants s'assembler,
Et notre sang pret a couler;
Comme l'eau sur la terre ils allaient le repandre:
Du haut du ciel sa voix s'est fait entendre,
L'homme superbe est renverse,
Ses propres fleches l'ont perce.
The Wind And The Whirlwind
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I have a thing to say. But how to say it?
I have a cause to plead. But to what ears?
How shall I move a world by lamentation,
A world which heeded not a Nation's tears?
The Hunter Of The Prairies
© William Cullen Bryant
Ay, this is freedom!--these pure skies
Were never stained with village smoke:
Heather Ale: A Galloway Legend
© Robert Louis Stevenson
FROM the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne,
Explanation Of An Ancient Woodcut
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Soon as the spring-sun meets his view,
Repose begets him labour anew;
He feels that he holds within his brain
A little world, that broods there amain,
And that begins to act and to live,
Which he to others would gladly give.
The Conversation Of Eiros And Charmion
© Edgar Allan Poe
Dreams are with us no more;but of these mysteries
anon. I rejoice to see you looking life-like and rational.
The film of the shadow has already passed from off your
eyes. Be of heart, and fear nothing. Your allotted days of
stupor have expired, and to-morrow I will myself induct you
into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.
Ten Types of Hospital Visitor
© Charles Causley
The second appears, a melancholy splurge
Of theological colours;
Taps heavily about like a healthy vulture
Distributing deep-frozen hope.
The Campaign, A Poem, To His Grace The Duke Of Marlborough
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,
Proud in their number to enrol your name;
The Ruines of Time
© Edmund Spenser
But whie (vnhappie wight) doo I thus crie,
And grieue that my remembrance quite is raced
Out of the knowledge of posteritie,
And all my antique moniments defaced?
Sith I doo dailie see things highest placed,
So soone as fates their vitall thred haue neuer borne.
Patriotism 2: Nelson, Pitt, Fox
© Sir Walter Scott
TO mute and to material things
New life revolving summer brings;
To Fletcher Reviv'd
© Richard Lovelace
How have I bin religious? what strange good
Has scap't me, that I never understood?
Have I hel-guarded Haeresie o'rthrowne?
Heald wounded states? made kings and kingdoms one?
That FATE should be so merciful to me,
To let me live t' have said I have read thee.
"The Undying One" - Canto II
© Caroline Norton
'Neath these, and many more than these, my arm
Hath wielded desperately the avenging steel--
And half exulting in the awful charm
Which hung upon my life--forgot to feel!
Fragment VI
© James Macpherson
Son of the noble Fingal, Oscian,
Prince of men! what tears run down
the cheeks of age? what shades thy
mighty soul?
