Age poems
/ page 89 of 145 /
Tokens
© William Barnes
Green mwold on zummer bars do show
That they've a-dripped in winter wet;
The hoof-worn ring o' groun' below
The tree do tell o' storms or het;
Villon
© Ted Hughes
He whom we anatomized
‘whose words we gathered as pleasant flowers
and thought on his wit and how neatly he described things’
speaks
to us, hatching marrow,
broody all night over the bones of a deadman.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 02 - Nature And Composition Of The Mind
© Lucretius
First, then, I say, the mind which oft we call
The intellect, wherein is seated life's
A Monumental Column : A Funeral Elegy
© John Webster
To The Right Honourable Sir Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, and One Of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council.
The greatest of the kingly race is gone,
The Sorcerer: Act II
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Scene-Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight. All the
peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end
of Act I.
The Tenth Olympic Ode Of Pindar
© Henry James Pye
To Agesidamus, son of Archestratus, an Epizephyrian Locrian, on his Victory obtained by the Cæstus. ARGUMENT. The Poet begins the Ode by apologising to Agesidamus, for having so long delayed composing it, after promising to do it. He then compliments him upon his country, and consoles him for being worsted at the beginning of the contest, till encouraged by Ilias, by relating the same circumstance of Hercules and Patroclus. He then describes the institution of the Olympic Games, by Hercules, after the victory he obtained over Augeas, and the sons of Neptune and Molione; and enumerates those who won the first Prizes in the Athletic Exercises. He then, returning to Agesidamus, and congratulating him on having a Poet to sing his exploits, though after some delay, concludes with praising him for his strength and beauty.
STROPHE I.
Bricks and Straw
© Edwin Morgan
My desk is cleared of the litter of ages;
Before me glitter the fair white pages;
The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The Second
© Mark Akenside
Till all its orbs and all its worlds of fire
Be loosen'd from their seats; yet still serene,
The unconquer'd mind looks down upon the wreck;
And ever stronger as the storms advance,
Firm through the closing ruin holds his way,
Where nature calls him to the destin'd goal.
The Ghost in the Martini
© Anthony Evan Hecht
Over the rim of the glass
Containing a good martini with a twist
I eye her bosom and consider a pass,
Certain we’d not be missed
The Ivy Green
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,
That creepeth oer ruins old!
An Essay on Criticism: Part 1
© Alexander Pope
But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a critic's noble name,
Be sure your self and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
The Wind at the Door
© William Barnes
As day did darken on the dewless grass,
There, still, wi nwone a-come by me
To stay a-while at hwome by me
Within the house, all dumb by me,
I zot me sad as the eventide did pass.
Paradise Regain'd: Book III (1671)
© Patrick Kavanagh
SO spake the Son of God, and Satan stood
A while as mute confounded what to say,
Paradise Lost: Book IX (1674)
© Patrick Kavanagh
To whom the Virgin Majestie of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,
With sweet austeer composure thus reply'd,
The Image In Lava
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou thing of years departed!
What ages have gone by,
Since here the mournful seal was set
By love and agony!
To Mr. Pope
© Thomas Parnell
To praise, and still with just respect to praise
A Bard triumphant in immortal bays,
The Learn'd to show, the Sensible commend,
Yet still preserve the province of the Friend,
What life, what vigour must the lines require?
What Music tune them, what affection fire?
Alaskan Balladry, No.1
© Eugene Field
The Northland reared his hoary head
And spied the Southland leagues away-
"Fairest of all fair brides," he said,
"Be thou my bride, I pray!"
The Book Of Paradise - The Seven Sleepers
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
And the sheep-dog will not leave them,--
Scared away, his foot all-mangled,
To his master still he presses,
And he joins the hidden party,
Joins the favorites of slumber.
