Failure poems
/ page 13 of 20 /A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - July
© George MacDonald
1.
ALAS, my tent! see through it a whirlwind sweep!
Phantasmagoria Canto II ( Hys Fyve Rules )
© Lewis Carroll
"MY First - but don't suppose," he said,
"I'm setting you a riddle -
Is - if your Victim be in bed,
Don't touch the curtains at his head,
But take them in the middle,
The Kings
© Louise Imogen Guiney
A man said unto his Angel:
"My spirits are fallen low,
And I cannot carry this battle:
O brother! where might I go?
The Real Successes
© Edgar Albert Guest
You think that the failures are many,
You think the successes are few,
To An Astrologer
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Nay seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore,
Nor question that the tenor of my life,
The Farmer's Boy - Summer
© Robert Bloomfield
Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth,
NATURE herself invites the REAPERS forth;
Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears.
I'd Rather Be A Failure
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'd rather be a failure than the man who's never tried;
I'd rather seek the mountain-top than always stand aside.
Oh, let me hold some lofty dream and make my desperate fight,
And though I fail I still shall know I tried to serve the right.
Dead Sea Fruit
© Madison Julius Cawein
All things have power to hold us back.
Our very hopes build up a wall
Of doubt, whose shadow stretches black
O'er all.
A Womans Apology
© Alfred Austin
In the green darkness of a summer wood,
Wherethro' ran winding ways, a lady stood,
Carved from the air in curving womanhood.
Phyllis
© Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
(Español)
Lo atrevido de un pincel,
Filis, dio a mi pluma alientos:
que tan gloriosa desgracia
más causa corrió que miedo.
Tristrams End
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Tristram
Isoult, Isoult, thy kiss!
To sorrow though I was made,
I die in bliss, in bliss.
Prothalamion
© Horace Smith
Go, like St. Simon, on your lonely tower,
Wish to make all men good, but want the power.
Freedom you'll have, but still will lack the thrall,--
The bond of sympathy, which binds us all.
Children and wives are hostages to fame,
But aids and helps in every useful aim.
New Year Song
© Edith Nesbit
WE climb the hill; the mist conceals
That valley where we could not stay;
Twenty-One
© John Le Gay Brereton
The world, all busy round us here of late,
Is still unchanged: but you are twenty-one.
Aurora Leigh: Book Eighth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
In my ears
The sound of waters. There he stood, my king!
The Dreamer
© Madison Julius Cawein
Even as a child he loved to thrid the bowers,
And mark the loafing sunlight's lazy laugh;