Future poems
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Festina Lente
© James Russell Lowell
But vain was all their hoarsest bass,
Their old experience out of place,
And spite of croaking and entreating,
The vote was carried in marsh-meeting.
The Big Boots Of Pain
© Anne Sexton
There can be certain potions
needled in the clock
for the body's fall from grace,
to untorture and to plead for.
For Righteousness' Sake
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE age is dull and mean. Men creep,
Not walk; with blood too pale and tame
Standing On Tiptoe
© George Frederick Cameron
STANDING on tiptoe ever since my youth
Striving to grasp the future just above,
I hold at length the only futureTruth,
And Truth is Love.
Oh! Mr. Malthus!
© Stephen Leacock
Turn back to Malthus as he walked o'er English Fields and Downs
And walked at night the crooked Streets of crooked English Towns,
Lifeless, undying, Shade or Man, as one that could not die
A hundred years his Shadow fell, a hundred Years to lie,
The Shadow on the Window Pane when Malthus' Ghost went by.
Ode To Dragon
© Hannah More
Dragon! since lyrics are the mode,
To thee I dedicate my Ode,
And reason good I plead:
Are those who cannot write, to blame
To draw their hopes of future fame,
From those who cannot read?
He Had So Much Work To Do
© Henry Lawson
Jim was trucking for a sawmill to make money for the home,
He was making, out of Mudgee, for the family to come,
And a load-chain snapped the switch-bar, and Black Anderson found Jim,
In the morning, in a creek-bed, with a log on top of him.
To A Vain Lady
© George Gordon Byron
Ah! heedless girl! why thus disclose
What ne'er was meant for other ears:
Why thus destroy thine own repose
And dig the source of future tears?
The Princess (part 2)
© Alfred Tennyson
At break of day the College Portress came:
She brought us Academic silks, in hue
The Prisoner: Pt 1
© Emily Jane Brontë
In the dungeon crypts idly did I stray,
Reckless of the lives wasting there away;
"Draw the ponderous bars; open, Warder stern!"
He dare not say me naythe hinges harshly turn.
The Fortune-Teller, a Gypsy Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
STEPHEN had long in secret sigh'd;
And STEPHEN never was deny'd:
Now, LUBIN was a modest swain,
And therefore, treated with disdain:
For, it is said, in Love and War ,--
The boldest, most successful are!
One Song, America, Before I Go
© Walt Whitman
ONE song, America, before I go,
I'd sing, o'er all the rest, with trumpet sound,
For thee-the Future.
The Last Toast
© Anna Akhmatova
I drink to home, that is lost,
To evil life of mine,
To loneness in which were both,
And to your future, fine, --
The Dream of Man
© William Watson
To the eye and the ear of the Dreamer
This Dream out of darkness flew,
Through the horn or the ivory portal,
But he wist not which of the two.
Sonnet XXVIII: My Letters
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My letters - all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night,
Rinaldo to Laura Maria
© Mary Darby Robinson
There tell me I am most despis'd,
E'en by thyself, whom most I priz'd,
So shall I gladly welcome fate,
And perish in thy perfect hate:
So shall I better bear th' eternal pain,
Never to see thy Form, or hear thy Voice again.
Monody to the Memory of Chatterton
© Mary Darby Robinson
Chill penury repress'd his noble rage,
And froze the genial current of his soul.
GRAY.
Golfre, Gothic Swiss Tale
© Mary Darby Robinson
Where freezing wastes of dazzl'ing Snow
O'er LEMAN'S Lake rose, tow'ring;
The BARON GOLFRE'S Castle strong
Was seen, the silv'ry peaks among,
With ramparts, darkly low'ring!--
The Bullfrog Bell
© Joseph Furphy
Now the truce of night brings respite to the sordid care of day,
And in listlessness I pace the river side,
Where the solitude is wounded by no lighted window's ray;
But illicit fancy will not be denied
For the darkening flat reiterates a freer life's farewell,
In the long familiar knocking of a bullfrog bell.
