Future poems

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The Wild Honey-Suckle

© Philip Morin Freneau

Fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet;
...No roving foot shall crush thee here,
...No busy hand provoke a tear.

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An Angel in the House

© James Henry Leigh Hunt

How sweet it were, if without feeble fright,
Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight,
An angel came to us, and we could bear
To see him issue from the silent air

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Sonnets To Europa

© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)

Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough
of dark becoming where it cannot be.
So much both for the soil and for the tree,
so much for things that are becoming now.

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Broken Clavecin

© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)

for every wind?’s emotionless blast
brings shreds of feathers with their dance of loss
rotating leaves of faded rainbow-trees
and bitter tide of petals outcast

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Wreath Of Sonnets

© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)

And if sometimes they happen to perform
Some droning dance which smells of here and now,
With springing forms and circles staying warm,
They start to tremble on a pointed prow
Of universe and dream of their home
In whirls destroying leaves to leave a bough.

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The Passing Of Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
First made and latest left of all the knights,
Told, when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his age, to those
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.

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The Mountain Splitter

© Henry Lawson

HE WORKS in the glen where the waratah grows,
  And the gums and the ashes are tall,
’Neath cliffs that re-echo the sound of his blows
  When the wedges leap in from the mawl.

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Time's Shadow

© Mathilde Blind

This hour alone Hope's broken pledges mar,
 And joy now gleams before, now in our rear,
Like mirage mocking in some waste afar,
 Dissolving into air as we draw near.
 Beyond our steps the path is sunny-clear,
The shadow lying only where we are.

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To Arthur Upson

© William Stanley Braithwaite

How placidly this silent river rolls

  Under the midnight stars before our feet,

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The City Planners

© Margaret Atwood


give momentary access to
the landscape behind or under
the future cracks in the plaster

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History of the Twentieth Century (A Roadshow)

© Joseph Brodsky

Ladies and gentlemen and the day!
All ye made of sweet human clay!
Let me tell you: you are o'kay.

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Ugolino

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Now had the loophole of that dungeon, still
Which bears the name of Famine's Tower from me,
And where ’tis fit that many another will

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The Fan : A Poem. Book I.

© John Gay

The goddess pleas'd, the curious work receive,
Remounts her chariot, and the grotto leaves;
With the light fan she moves the yielding air,
And gales, till then unknown, play round the fair.

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Song Of The Redwood-Tree

© Walt Whitman

A prophecy and indirection-a thought impalpable, to breathe, as air;
  A chorus of dryads, fading, departing-or hamadryads departing;
  A murmuring, fateful, giant voice, out of the earth and sky,
  Voice of a mighty dying tree in the Redwood forest dense.

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Horreur sympathique (Sympathetic Horror)

© Charles Baudelaire

De ce ciel bizarre et livide,
Tourmenté comme ton destin,
Quels pensers dans ton âme vide
Descendent? réponds, libertin.

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An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron

© William Strode

Farewell Example, Living Rule farewell;
Whose practise shew'd goodness was possible,
Who reach'd the full outstretch'd perfection
Of Man, of Lawyer, and of Christian.

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The Four Ages of Man

© Anne Bradstreet

1.1 Lo now! four other acts upon the stage,
1.2 Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.
1.3 The first: son unto Phlegm, grand-child to water,
1.4 Unstable, supple, moist, and cold's his Nature.

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The Art Of War. Book I.

© Henry James Pye

I'll paint the cruel arm from Bayonne nam'd,
Where savage art a new destruction fram'd,
Their powers combin'd where fire and steel impart,
And point a double wound at every heart.

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Contemplations

© Anne Bradstreet

1 Sometime now past in the Autumnal Tide,
2 When Ph{oe}bus wanted but one hour to bed,
3 The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride,
4 Were gilded o're by his rich golden head.