Fear poems
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Unchain the Laborer
© Pierpont John
Strike from that laborer's limbs his chain! In the fierce sun the iron burns!By night, it fills his dreams with pain; By day, it galls him as he turns.
The Palace-Burner
© Piatt Sarah Morgan Bryan
She has been burning palaces. ."To see The sparks look pretty in the wind?." Well, yes .-And something more. But women brave as she Leave much for cowards such as I to guess.
The House below the Hill
© Piatt Sarah Morgan Bryan
You ask me of the farthest star, Whither your thought can climb at will,Forever-questioning child of mine
The Splendid Shilling
© Philips John
-- -- Sing, Heavenly Muse,Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime,A Shilling, Breeches, and Chimera's Dire.
Bleinheim, a Poem
© Philips John
From low and abject themes the grov'ling museNow mounts aërial, to sing of armsTriumphant, and emblaze the martial actsOf Britain's hero; may the verse not sinkBeneath his merits, but detain a whileThy ear, O Harley, (though thy country's wealDepends on thee, though mighty Anne requiresThy hourly counsels) since with ev'ry artThy self adorn'd, the mean essays of youthThou wilt not damp, but guide, wherever found,The willing genius to the muses' seat:Therefore thee first, and last, the muse shall sing
My God Why Are You Crying?
© Peacock Molly
When someone cries, after making love spillsa pail of tears inside, it is the acheof years, all the early years' emptinesshollowed into a pail-like form which fillswith feeling now felt aloud, that resounds
I Must Have Learned This Somewhere
© Peacock Molly
I loved an old doll made of bleachedwooden beads strung into a stick figure
Quia Multum Amavit
© John Payne
Just a drowned woman, with death-draggled hair And wan eyes, all a-stare;The weary limbs composed in ghastly rest, The hands together prest,Tight holding something that the flood has spared, Nor even the rough workhouse folk have dared To separate from her wholly, but untiedGently the knotted hands and laid it by her side
Come, Let Us Die Like Men
© Patten George Washington
Roll out the banner on the air, And draw your swords of flame,The gathering squadrons fast prepare To take the field of fame!In serried ranks, your columns dun Close up along the glen;If we must die ere set of sun, Come, let us die like men
A Satire, in Imitation of the Third of Juvenal
© John Oldham
Though much concern'd to leave my dear old friend,I must however his design commendOf fixing in the country: for were IAs free to choose my residence, as he;The Peak, the Fens, the Hundreds, or Land's End,I would prefer to Fleet Street, or the Strand
On our Thirty-ninth Wedding-day, 6th of May, 1810
© Odell Jonathan
Twice nineteen years, dear Nancy, on this dayComplete their circle, since the smiling MayBeheld us at the altar kneel and joinIn holy rites and vows, which made thee mine
Ode for the New Year
© Odell Jonathan
When rival Nations first descried,Emerging from the boundless MainThis Land by Tyrants yet untried,On high was sung this lofty strain:Rise Britannia beaming far!Rise bright Freedom's morning star!
The Useless Ones
© O'Reilly John Boyle
Poets should not reason: Let them sing!Argument is treason -- Bells should ring.
Living
© O'Reilly John Boyle
To toil all day and lie worn-out at night;To rise for all the years to slave and sleep,And breed new broods to do no other thingIn toiling, bearing, breeding -- life is thisTo myriad men, too base for man or brute
Red Hibiscus in a Sydney Street
© Nicholls Marjory
When I look up and see your flaunting headAnd the long tongue that serpent-like shoots out,I ask, as swift thoughts throng in revellers' rout,What in the world as wicked is as red?I see a columned hall and tables spread,A woman, white and red, with smiles that flout,Two wine-flushed suitors and a sudden shout,Quarrel's quick curses, and the red wine shed--A gleam of swords, a bright and startling stain;Fear's frantic flight, and silence in the hall;Save when the night-wind strays in, flower-sweet,And from the gutt'ring candles white drops fall
I Scarce Believed
© Nicholls Marjory
I wondered once, when life, so it did seem,Was holding to me hands where gifts were laid,Gifts so long yearned for, that I felt afraidAnd, scarce believing, grasped as in a dream
Depression
© Nicholls Marjory
My mind is like a wretched room, So bare, so drear;Dull with a heavy, ugly gloom, No light, no cheer.
Faith's Review and Expectation
© John Newton
## That sav'd a wretch like me!I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.
