Anger poems

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65

It was a very little while and they had gone in front of it. It was that they had liked it would it bear. It was a very much adjoined a follower. Flower of an adding where a follower.
Have I come in. Will in suggestion.
They may like hours in catching.
It is always a pleasure to remember.

Paradise Lost: Book X

© Patrick Kavanagh

So having said, he thus to Eve in few:
"Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?"
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelm'd,
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied,
"The Serpent me beguil'd, and I did eat."

The Wounded Cupid. Song

© Anacreon

Cupid as he lay among

Roses, by a Bee was stung.

Beowulf (modern English translation)

© Pierre Reverdy

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings

of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,

Mary Shelley in Brigantine

© Stephen Dunn

Because the ostracized experience the world
in ways peculiar to themselves, often seeing it
clearly yet with such anger and longing
that they sometimes enlarge what they see,
she at first saw Brigantine as a paradise for gulls.
She must be a horseshoe crab washed ashore.

Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College

© Thomas Gray

Ye distant spires, ye antique tow'rs,

That crown the wat'ry glade,

Movement Song

© Elizabeth Daryush

I have studied the tight curls on the back of your neck

moving away from me

Innocence

© Thomas Traherne

But that which most I wonder at, which most
I did esteem my bliss, which most I boast,
And ever shall enjoy, is that within
I felt no stain, nor spot of sin.

The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act I

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

KING. Yes, from this rocky height,
Nigh to the sun, that with one starry light
Its rugged brow doth crown,
Headlong among the salt waves leaping down
Let him descend who so much pain perceives;
There let him raging die who raging lives.

The Canon Of Aughrim

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

You ask me of English honour, whether your Nation is just?
Justice for us is a word divine, a name we revere,
Alas, no more than a name, a thing laid by in the dust.
The world shall know it again, but not in this month or year.

Ferdiah; Or, The Fight At The Ford

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

Time is it, O Cuchullin, to arise,
Time for the fearful combat to prepare;
For hither with the anger in his eyes,
To fight thee comes Ferdiah called the Fair.

Annie Protheroe. A Legend of Stratford-le-Bow

© William Schwenck Gilbert

OH! listen to the tale of little ANNIE PROTHEROE.
She kept a small post-office in the neighbourhood of BOW;
She loved a skilled mechanic, who was famous in his day -
A gentle executioner whose name was GILBERT CLAY.

from Venus and Adonis

© William Shakespeare

Even as the sunne with purple-colourd face,
Had tane his last leaue of the weeping morne,
Rose-cheekt Adonis hied him to the chace,
Hunting he lou'd, but loue he laught to scorne,
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amaine vnto him,
And like a bold fac'd suter ginnes to woo him.

The Ballad of Nat Turner

Then fled, O brethren, the wicked juba
and wandered wandered far
from curfew joys in the Dismal’s night.
Fool of St. Elmo’s fire

Destiny

© John Kenyon

"Strange Power! mysterious Destiny!

Thou who dost love to sit, alone,

The Broken Crutch: A Tale

A burst of laughter rang throughout the hall,
And Peggy's tongue, though overborne by all,
Pour'd its warm blessings, for, without control
The sweet unbridled transport of her soul
Was obviously seen, till Herbert's kiss
Stole, as it were, the eloquence of bliss.