Future poems
/ page 93 of 121 /
Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 4.
© William Cowper
Arion. Lo, from the field of air I too descend,
I who am called Arion,
The mighty ruler of this winged band,
At the command of hell.
The Call of The Impossible
© Sri Aurobindo
Our godhead calls us in unrealised things.
Asleep in the wide fields of destiny,
A world guarded by Silence' rustling wings
Sheltered their fine impossibility.
Temporary Poem Of My Time
© Yehuda Amichai
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
The Tree
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
'Tis just that some return be made;
Sure some return is due from me
To thy cool shadows, and to thee.
The Search After Happiness. A Pastoral Drama
© Hannah More
"To rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the female breast." ~Thomson.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 1 - 250 (Whinfield Translation)
© Omar Khayyám
At dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,
"Arise, my brethren of the revelers' guild,
That I may fill our measure full of wine,
Or e'er the measure of our days be filled."
The Hymn
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
To the Almighty on his radiant Throne,
Let endless Hallelujas rise!
Praise Him, ye wondrous Heights to us unknown,
Praise Him, ye Heavens unreach'd by mortal Eyes,
Praise Him, in your degree, ye sublunary Skies!
The Hog, The Sheep, And Goat, Carrying To A FAIR
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Who does not wish, ever to judge aright,
And, in the Course of Life's Affairs,
To have a quick, and far extended Sight,
Tho' it too often multiplies his Cares?
And who has greater Sense, but greater Sorrow shares?
On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Farewell, lov'd Youth! since 'twas the Will of Heaven
So soon to take, what had so late been giv'n;
And thus our Expectations to destroy,
Raising a Grief, where we had form'd a Joy;
The Man To Be
© Edgar Albert Guest
Some day the world will need a man of courage in a time of doubt,
And somewhere, as a little boy, that future hero plays about.
When Winchester races
© Jane Austen
When Winchester races first took their beginning
It is said the good people forgot their old Saint
Not applying at all for the leave of Saint Swithin
And that William of Wykeham's approval was faint.
To the Memory of Mrs. Lefroy who died Dec:r 16 -- my Birthday.
© Jane Austen
Angelic Woman! past my power to praise
In Language meet, thy Talents, Temper, mind.
Thy solid Worth, they captivating Grace!--
Thou friend and ornament of Humankind!--
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto XII.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Churl
This marks the Churl: when spousals crown
His selfish hope, he finds the grace,
Which sweet love has for even the clown,
Was not in the woman, but the chace.
A Dead Baby
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
LITTLE soul, for such brief space that entered
In this little body straight and chilly,
Little life that fluttered and departed,
Like a moth from an unopened lily,
Little being, without name or nation,
Where is now thy place among creation?
On A Distant View Of Harrow
© Lord Byron
Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection
Embitters the present, compar'd with the past;
Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection,
And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last;
To Eliza
© Lord Byron
Eliza, what fools are the Mussulman sect,
Who to woman deny the soul's future existence!
Could they see thee, Eliza, they'd own their defect,
And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance.
I would to heaven that I were so much clay
© Lord Byron
I would to heaven that I were so much clay,
As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling -
Because at least the past were passed away -
And for the future - (but I write this reeling,
Mazeppa
© Lord Byron
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day,
When fortune left the royal Swede -
Around a slaughtered army lay,
No more to combat and to bleed.
