Courage poems
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Vidrik Verlandson (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
King Diderik sits in the halls of Bern,
And he boasts of his deeds of might;
So many a swain in battle hes felld,
And taken so many a knight.
On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The Bay Of Scanctacruze, In The Island Of teneriff.1657
© Andrew Marvell
Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold,
Leaves the new World and hastens for the old:
But though the wind was fair, the slowly swoome
Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:
To Songs At the Marriage Of The Lord Fauconberg And The Lady Mary Cromwell
© Andrew Marvell
Endymion
Cynthia, O Cynthia, turn thine Ear,
nor scorn Endymions plaints to hear.
As we our Flocks, so you command
The fleecy Clouds with silver wand.
The Death of Cromwell
© Andrew Marvell
That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and numbered every hair,
Now in itself (the glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden years:
And thenceforh only did attend to trace
What death might least so fair a life deface.
Cromwell's Return
© Andrew Marvell
An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return From IrelandThe forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing,
His numbers languishing.
The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C.
© Andrew Marvell
Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise;
So Man, declining alwayes, disappears.
In the Weak Circles of increasing Years;
Upon The Hill And Grove At Bill-borow
© Andrew Marvell
To the Lord Fairfax.See how the arched Earth does here
Rise in a perfect Hemisphere!
The stiffest Compass could not strike
A line more circular and like;
A Dialogue Between the Resolved Soul, And Created Pleasure
© Andrew Marvell
Soul
I sup above, and cannot stay
To bait so long upon the way.
Blake's Victory
© Andrew Marvell
The Peak's proud height the Spaniards all admire,
Yet in their breasts carry a pride much high'r.
Only to this vast hill a power is given,
At once both to inhabit earth and heaven.
But this stupendous prospect did not near,
Make them admire, so much as they did fear.
A Poem Upon The Death Of O.C.
© Andrew Marvell
That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and numbred ev'ry hair,
Now in its self (the Glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden Years:
Last Instructions to a Painter
© Andrew Marvell
Here, Painter, rest a little, and survey
With what small arts the public game they play.
For so too Rubens, with affairs of state,
His labouring pencil oft would recreate.
An Horatian Ode Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland
© Andrew Marvell
The forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.
Upon Appleton House, to My Lord Fairfax
© Andrew Marvell
Within this sober Frame expect
Work of no Forrain Architect;
That unto Caves the Quarries drew,
And Forrests did to Pastures hew;
First Anniversary
© Andrew Marvell
Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise,
So Man, declining always, disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years;
And his short tumults of themselves compose,
While flowing Time above his head does close.
A Far Cry From Africa
© Derek Walcott
A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt
Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies,
Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt.
Corpses are scattered through a paradise.
Folly
© Joyce Kilmer
(For A. K. K.)What distant mountains thrill and glow
Beneath our Lady Folly's tread?
Why has she left us, wise in woe,
Shrewd, practical, uncomforted?
The Proud Poet
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Shaemas O Sheel)One winter night a Devil came and sat upon my bed,
His eyes were full of laughter for his heart was full of crime.
"Why don't you take up fancy work, or embroidery?" he said,
"For a needle is as manly a tool as a pen that makes a rhyme!"
The Bush Girl
© Henry Lawson
Grey eyes that grow sadder than sunset or rain,
Fond heart that is ever more true
Firm faith that grows firmer for watching in vain--
Shell wait by the slliprails for you.
An EPISTLE from Alexander to Hephaestion In His Sickness
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
But why these single Griefs shou'd I expose?
The World no Mirth, no War, no Bus'ness knows,
But, hush'd with Sorrow stands, to favour thy Repose.
The Man To Be
© Edgar Albert Guest
Some day the world will need a man of courage in a time of doubt,
And somewhere, as a little boy, that future hero plays about.
