Future poems
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The Scoutmaster
© Edgar Albert Guest
There isn't any pay for you, you serve without reward,
The boys who tramp the fields with you but little could afford.
And yet your pay is richer far than those who toil for gold,
For in a dozen different ways your service shall be told.
The Retreat From Moscow
© Victor Marie Hugo
It snowed. A defeat was our conquest red!
For once the eagle was hanging its head.
Hymn to Life
© James Schuyler
The wind rests its cheek upon the ground and feels the cool damp
And lifts its head with twigs and small dead blades of grass
Poems - Written On The Deaths Of Three Lovely Children
© Jean Ingelow
Yellow leaves, how fast they flutter-woodland hollows thickly strewing,
Where the wan October sunbeams scantly in the mid-day win,
While the dim gray clouds are drifting, and in saddened hues imbuing
All without and all within!
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
An Essay on Man: Epistle I
© Alexander Pope
To Henry St. John, Lord Bolingbroke
Awake, my St. John! leave all meaner things
No Words Can Describe It
© Mark Strand
How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace
A Psalm of Life: What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
The Real and True and Sure
© Robert Browning
Marriage on earth seems such a counterfeit,
Mere imitation of the inimitable:
Lines To Our New Censor
© William Watson
And wilt thou, Oscar, from us flee,
And must we, henceforth, wholly sever?
Shall thy laborious _jeux-d'esprit_
Sadden our lives no more for ever?
Intimations Of The Beautiful
© Madison Julius Cawein
The hills are full of prophecies
And ancient voices of the dead;
Of hidden shapes that no man sees,
Pale, visionary presences,
That speak the things no tongue hath said,
No mind hath thought, no eye hath read.
To S. M. A Young African Painter, On Seeing His Works
© Phillis Wheatley
TO show the lab’ring bosom’s deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
The Forest Boy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
THE trees have now hid at the edge of the hurst
The spot where the ruins decay
Of the cottage, where Will of the Woodland was nursed,
And lived so beloved, till the moment accursed
Pauline, A Fragment of a Question
© Robert Browning
And I can love nothing-and this dull truth
Has come the last: but sense supplies a love
Encircling me and mingling with my life.
Madeline. A Domestic Tale
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
My child, my child, thou leav'st me!âI shall hear
The gentle voice no more that blest mine ear
The Book of the Dead Man (#15)
© Marvin Bell
1. About the Dead Man and Rigor Mortis
The dead man thinks his resolve has stiffened when the
Parkinson’s Disease
© Washington Allston
While spoon-feeding him with one hand
she holds his hand with her other hand,
