Age poems

 / page 99 of 145 /
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His Boat

© Gaius Valerius Catullus

This boat you see, friends, will tell you

that she was the fastest of craft,

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Soliloquy

© Robinson Jeffers

August and laurelled have been content to speak for an age,

and the ages that follow

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Fort Wagner

© William Gilmore Simms

I.Glory unto the gallant boys who stood

  At Wagner, and, unflinching, sought the van;

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Ode On The Death Of A Lady, Who Lived One Hundred Years, And Died On Her Birthday, 1728 (Translation

© William Cowper

Ancient dame, how wide and vast
To a race like ours appears,
Rounded to an orb at last,
All thy multitude of years!

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Invocation To Youth

© Robert Laurence Binyon

COME then, as ever, like the wind at morning!

  Joyous, O Youth, in the aged world renew

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The Cathedral

© James Russell Lowell

Far through the memory shines a happy day,

Cloudless of care, down-shod to every sense,

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The Maid of Gerringong

© Henry Kendall

Rolling through the gloomy gorges, comes the roaring southern blast,

With a sound of torrents flying, like a routed army, past,

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A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634. (Comus)

© John Milton

The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an enchanted chair;
to
whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to
rise.

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The Spanish Chapel

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

I made a mountain-brook my guide
 Thro' a wild Spanish glen,
And wandered, on its grassy side,
 Far from the homes of men.

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From The Conspirator

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

SCENE.
[A garden; Arnold De Malpas and Catharine discovered walking slowly towards a summerhouse in the distance].
CATHARINE.

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Easter Monday

© William Barnes

An' zoo o' Monday we got drough

  Our work betimes, an ax'd a vew

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As It Begins With A Brush Stroke On A Snare Drum

© Larry Levis

The plaza was so still in that moment two years ago that
everything was clear,
As if it had been preserved beneath a kind of lacquered
stillness, &, for a while,
I did not even notice the pigeons lifting above the sad tiles
of churches,

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And Now In Accents Deep And Low

© Washington Allston

And now, in accents deep and low,

Like voice of fondly-cherish'd woe,

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Ultima Thule: The Sifting Of Peter

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In St. Luke's Gospel we are told
How Peter in the days of old
  Was sifted;
And now, though ages intervene,
Sin is the same, while time and scene
  Are shifted.

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To Papa

© Louisa May Alcott

In high Olympus' sacred shade
  A gift Minerva wrought
  For her beloved philosopher
  Immersed in deepest thought.

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Drunken Morning

© Arthur Rimbaud

Oh, my Beautiful! Oh, my Good!
Hideous fanfare where
yet I do not stumble!
Oh, rack of enchantments!

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Chanting The Square Deific

© Walt Whitman


But as the seasons, and gravitation-and as all the appointed days,
  that forgive not,
I dispense from this side judgments inexorable, without the least
  remorse.

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Charleston At The Close Of 1863

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

WHAT! still does the mother of treason uprear
Her crest 'gainst the furies that darken her sea,
Unquelled by mistrust, and unblanched by a fear,
Unbowed her proud head, and unbending her knee,
Calm, steadfast and free!

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Awake!

© George MacDonald

The stars are all watching;
God's angel is catching
At thy skirts in the darkness deep!
Gold hinges grating,
The mighty dead waiting,
Why dost thou sleep?