Future poems

 / page 96 of 121 /
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Ode VII: On The Use Of Poetry

© Mark Akenside

I.

Not for themselves did human kind

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Raphael

© John Greenleaf Whittier

I shall not soon forget that sight
The glow of Autumn's westering day,
A hazy warmth, a dreamy light,
On Raphael's picture lay.

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The Ring And The Book - Chapter VII - Pompilia

© Robert Browning

  There,
Strength comes already with the utterance!
I will remember once more for his sake
The sorrow: for he lives and is belied.
Could he be here, how he would speak for me!

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Lines Suggested By The Graves Of Two English Soldiers On The Concord Battle-Ground

© James Russell Lowell

The same good blood that now refills

The dotard Orient's shrunken veins,

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At the Top of My voice

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Professor,
take off your bicycle glasses!
I myself will expound
those times
and myself.

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To All and Everything

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Above the capital’s madness
I raised my face,
stern as the faces of ancient icons.
Sorrow-rent,
on your body as on a death-bed, its days
my heart ended.

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The Christian's Anchor

© Rachel Elizabeth Patterson

How oft when youthful skies are clear,
And joy's sweet breezes round us play,
We dream that as through life we steer,
The morrow shall be like to-day.

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An Epistle Of The Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole

© Richard Savage


As the rich cloud by due degrees expands,
And show'rs down plenty thick on sundry lands,
Thy spreading worth in various bounty fell,
Made genius flourish, and made art excel.

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Ourselves were wed one summer—dear

© Emily Dickinson

Ourselves were wed one summer—dear—
Your Vision—was in June—
And when Your little Lifetime failed,
I wearied—too—of mine—

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The Voice Of The Man Impatient With Visions And Utopias

© Vachel Lindsay

We find your soft Utopias as white

As new-cut bread, and dull as life in cells,

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It Was Upon

© Edward Thomas

And as an unaccomplished prophecy
The stranger's words, after the interval
Of a score years, when those fields are by me
Never to be recrossed, now I recall,
This July eve, and question, wondering,
What of the lattermath to this hoar Spring?

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The Sacrifice Of Iphigenia

© Aeschylus

Now long and long from wintry Strymon blew


The weary, hungry, anchor-straining blasts,

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Acceptance

© Robert Frost

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least must know

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What Fifty Said

© Robert Frost

When I was young my teachers were the old.
I gave up fire for form till I was cold.
I suffered like a metal being cast.
I went to school to age to learn the past.

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The Death of the Hired Man

© Robert Frost

Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news

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Two Tramps In Mud Time

© Robert Frost

And all their logic would fill my head:
As that I had no right to play
With what was another man's work for gain.
My right might be love but theirs was need.
And where the two exist in twain
Theirs was the better right--agreed.

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Monody On The Death Of Chatterton

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Thee, Chatterton! yon unblest stones protect
From want, and the bleak freezings of neglect!
Escaped the sore wounds of affliction's rod,
Meek at the throne of mercy, and of God,
Perchance, thou raisest high th' enraptured hymn
  Amid the blaze of seraphin!

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Enemy of Death

© Salvatore Quasimodo

(For Rossana Sironi) You should not have
ripped out your image
taken from us, from the world,
a portion of beauty.

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Martyr’s Memorial

© Louise Imogen Guiney

SUCH natural debts of love our Oxford knows,

So many ancient dues undesecrate,

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Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

© Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.