Age poems
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Afternoon
© Eli Siegel
Hear Mr. Bulwer as he talks.
You might think he was so cheerful.
That smile took him ages to get
And he uses it this minute.
Funeral Of Youth, The: Threnody
© Rupert Brooke
The day that YOUTH had died,
There came to his grave-side,
In decent mourning, from the country's ends,
Those scatter'd friends
Easter-Day
© Alessandro Manzoni
Yes, HE IS RISEN. That hallowéd head
No longer lies wrapped in the cloth of the dead.
HE IS SURELY RISEN. At the side of the tomb
Lies the overturned door of the solitary room.
Like the valorous champion drunk after strife
The LORD has awaked to omnipotent life;
A Thought of Henry Kendall
© Anonymous
Had I gone first he surely would have writ
Some kindly words in loving memory --
The Secret
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
I lay upon my bed in the great night:
The sense of my body drowsed;
But a clearness yet lingered in the spirit,
By soft obscurity housed.
On Mr Colliers Essay On The Stage
© Thomas Parnell
Thus (say the bards) some worthy knight maintains
A warr wth fairy states, enchanted scenes,
When he moves on the bright delusion fly's,
& dismall dungeons gape before his eyes
Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
Vision Of Columbus - Book 1
© Joel Barlow
Oh, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight,
That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light,
These welcome shades conclude my instant doom,
And this drear mansion moulder to a tomb
A Novelty
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Why should I care for the Ages
Because they are old and grey?
To me, like sudden laughter,
The stars are fresh and gay;
The world is a daring fancy,
And finished yesterday.
Sonnet: At Dover Cliffs, July 20th 1787
© William Lisle Bowles
On these white cliffs, that calm above the flood
Uplift their shadowing heads, and, at their feet,
Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat,
Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood;
The Missionary - Canto Third
© William Lisle Bowles
Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN
Love, in thy youth, a stranger, knelt to thee,
With cheeks all red and golden locks all curled,
And cried, ``Sweet child, if thou wilt worship me,
To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty
© Matthew Prior
LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band
That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,
Were summoned by her high command
To show their passions by their letters.
Song
© Matthew Prior
How old may Phyllis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages?
To answer is no easy task;
For she has really two ages.
Julian and Maddalo : A Conversation
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,
Gertrude of Wyoming
© Thomas Campbell
PART IOn Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!
Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall,
And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring,
Of what thy gentle people did befall;
Alfred. Book IV.
© Henry James Pye
"I come," the stranger said, "from fields of fame,
A Saxon born, and Aribert my name.
I come from Devon's shores, where Devon's lord
Waves o'er the prostrate Dane the British sword.
Freedom might yet revisit Britain's coast,
Did Alfred live to lead her victor host."
Lines Left Upon The Seat Of A Yew-Tree,
© William Wordsworth
which stands near the lake of Esthwaite, on a desolate part of the shore, commanding a beautiful prospect.
NAY, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands
Far from all human dwelling: what if here
No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb?
