Anger poems

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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

© Ovid

  The End of the Seventh Book.


 Translated into English verse under the direction of
 Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
 William Congreve and other eminent hands

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Twenty-One Distichs About Children

© Eli Siegel

1. Bernice thinks a little.
Bernice is two months old; the world is new for her.
Ah, will her parents' angry world quite do for her?

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Tale XI

© George Crabbe

creed;
And those of stronger minds should never speak
(In his opinion) what might hurt the weak:
A man may smile, but still he should attend
His hour at church, and be the Church's friend,
What there he thinks conceal, and what he hears

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Breitmann In Holland. Scheveningen, Or De Maiden’s Coorse

© Charles Godfrey Leland

HET vas Mijn Heer van Torenborg,
Ride oud oopon de sand,
Und vait to hear a paardeken;
Coom tromplin from de land.

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The Triumphs Of Philamore And Amoret. To The Noblest Of Our

© Richard Lovelace

  Sir, your sad absence I complain, as earth
Her long-hid spring, that gave her verdures birth,
Who now her cheerful aromatick head
Shrinks in her cold and dismal widow'd bed;
Whilst the false sun her lover doth him move
Below, and to th' antipodes make love.

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An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry

© Thomas Parnell


I hate the Vulgar with untuneful Mind,
Hearts uninspir'd, and Senses unrefin'd.
Hence ye Prophane, I raise the sounding String,
And Bolingbroke descends to hear me sing.

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Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part I

© Henry James Pye

  By love of opulence and science led,
  Now Commerce wide her peaceful empire spread, 
  And seas, obedient to the pilot's art,
  But join'd the regions which they seem'd to part;
  Free intercourse disarm'd the barbarous mind,
  Tam'd savage hate, and humaniz'd mankind.

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'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 12

© Publius Vergilius Maro

WHEN Turnus saw the Latins leave the field,  

Their armies broken, and their courage quell’d,  

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Army Of Northern Virginia

© Stephen Vincent Benet

He only said it once-the marble closed-
There was a man enclosed within that image.
There was a force that tried Proportion's rule
And died without a legend or a cue
To bring it back. The shadow-Lees still live.
But the first-person and the singular Lee?

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When I Was Ill

© Johannes Ewald

Beatus ille, qui procul negotiis – Horace:


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The Three Horses

© George MacDonald

What shall I be?-I will be a knight
Walled up in armour black,
With a sword of sharpness, a hammer of might.
And a spear that will not crack-
So black, so blank, no glimmer of light
Will betray my darkling track.

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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf XXII. -- The Nun Of Nida

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In the convent of Drontheim,
Alone in her chamber
Knelt Astrid the Abbess,
At midnight, adoring,
Beseeching, entreating
The Virgin and Mother.

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Ormuzd And Ahriman. The Overture.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

Ah, what are all the discords of all time
But stumbling steps of one persistent life
That struggles up through mists to heights sublime
Forefelt through all creation's lingering strife: —
The deathless motion of one undertone,
Whose deep vibrations thrill from God to God alone!

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The Riding Camel

© William Henry Ogilvie

I was Junda's riding camel. I went in front of the train.
I was hung with shells of the Orient, from saddle and cinch and rein.
I was sour as a snake to handle, and rough a rock to ride,
But I could keep up with the west wind, and my pace was Junda's pride.

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Concealment

© Abraham Cowley

No; to what purpose should I speak?

  No, wretched heart! swell till you break.

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The Pylons

© Stephen Spender

The secret of these hills was stone, and cottages
Of that stone made,
And crumbling roads
That turned on sudden hidden villages

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Raschi In Prague

© Emma Lazarus

Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel,

The authoritative Talmudist, returned

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The Frog

© James Whitcomb Riley

Who am I but the Frog--the Frog!
  My realm is the dark bayou,
And my throne is the muddy and moss-grown log
  That the poison-vine clings to--
And the blacksnakes slide in the slimy tide
  Where the ghost of the moon looks blue.

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The Request

© Abraham Cowley

I'AVE often wish'd to love; what shall I do?

  Me still the cruel boy does spare;

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The Chimaera

© Arthur Symons

I dreamed that the Chimaera came,

A wandering angel, white with flame