Art poems
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'The Age Demanded'
© Ezra Pound
For or this agility chance found
Him of all men, unfit
As the red-beaked steeds of
The Cythersean for a chain bit.
On Queen Anne's Peace, Anno 1713
© Thomas Parnell
Mother of plenty, daughter of the skies,
Sweet Peace, the troubl'd world's desire, arise;
Around thy poet weave thy summer shades,
Within my fancy spread thy flow'ry meads,
Amongst thy train soft ease and pleasure bring,
And thus indulgent sooth me whilst I sing.
Ode 1957: An intellectual
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Intellectuals try not to drown,
while the whole purpose of loves
is drowning.
My Annual
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
How long will this harp which you once loved to hear
Cheat your lips of a smile or your eyes of a tear?
How long stir the echoes it wakened of old,
While its strings were unbroken, untarnished its gold?
The Power of Science
© James Brunton Stephens
"All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,"
Psalm Of The West
© Sidney Lanier
Master, Master, break this ban:
The wave lacks Thee.
Oh, is it not to widen man
Stretches the sea?
Oh, must the sea-bird's idle van
Alone be free?
Geraint And Enid
© Alfred Tennyson
Then Enid pondered in her heart, and said:
'I will go back a little to my lord,
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die,
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.'
Will
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOUR face, my boy, when six months old,
We propped you laughing in a chair,
And the sun-artist caught the gold
Which rippled o'er your waving hair!
Colonial Experience
© Anonymous
When first I came to Sydney Cove
And up and down the streets did rove,
I thought such sights I ne'er did see
Since first I learnt my A, B, C.
Hymn To Mercury
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.
I.
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia
Artemis To Actaeon
© Edith Wharton
And this was thine: to lose thyself in me,
Relive in my renewal, and become
The light of other lives, a quenchless torch
Passed on from hand to hand, till men are dust
And the last garland withers from my shrine.
Homer's Battle Of The Frogs And Mice. Book II
© Thomas Parnell
When rosy-finger'd Morn had ting'd the Clouds,
Around their Monarch-Mouse the Nation crouds,
Slow rose the Monarch, heav'd his anxious Breast,
And thus, the Council fill'd with Rage, addrest.
Tu Voz Profetica
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Juran por Cristo, venerables dueñas,
De quien llora en el vientre de la madre
Conoce del futuro; tú gemiste
Antes de que nacieras, y por eso
Tus artes de gitana me iluminan
En los discursos de tu voz profética.
The Plain
© Jean Hans Arp
The plain was flawlessly paved.
Nothing, absolutely nothing but the chair and I
were there.
Verses - Spoken to Lady Henrietta Cavendish Holles-Harley, Countess of Oxford
© Matthew Prior
Madam, Since Anna visited the muse's seat,
(Around her tomb let weeping angels wait)
What Makes An Artist
© Edgar Albert Guest
We got to talking art one day, discussing in a general way
How some can match with brush and paint the glory of a tree,
And some in stone can catch the things of which the dreamy poet sings,
While others seem to have no way to tell the joys they see.
