Future poems
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Ireland
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
They are dying! they are dying! where the golden corn is growing;
They are dying! they are dying! where the crowded herds are lowing:
They are gasping for existence where the streams of life are flowing,
And they perish of the plague where the breeze of health is blowing!
Time's Hymn Of Hate
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Oh, boastful, wicked land, that once was beautiful and great,
How bitter and how black must be your self-invited fate,
While Time goes down the centuries and sings his hymn of hate!
The Ancient World
© Mark Doty
Today the Masons are auctioning
their discarded pomp: a trunk of turbans,
gemmed and ostrich-plumed, and operetta costumes
labeled inside the collar "Potentate"
The Nut
© Jessie Pope
He used to get, when in civilian state,
His tea and shaving water, sharp, at eight.
Then ten delicious minutes would be spent
In one last snooze of exquisite content.
Sonnet. "Say thou not sadly, "never," and "no more,""
© Frances Anne Kemble
Say thou not sadly, "never," and "no more,"
But from thy lips banish those falsest words;
Linoz Isidoz
© Aleister Crowley
Lo! I lament. Fallen is the sixfold Star:
Slain is Asar.
O twinned with me in the womb of Night!
O son of my bowels to the Lord of Light!
Happy Dust
© Aleister Crowley
For Margot
Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings
To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, the abode of
ineffable things,
Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
© Walt Whitman
FLOOD-TIDE below me! I watch you face to face;
Clouds of the west! sun there half an hour high! I see you also face
to face.
Elegy III. Anno Aet. 17. On The Death Of The Bishop Of Winchester (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Silent I sat, dejected, and alone,
Making in thought the public woes my own,
Niobe In Distress For Her Children Slain By Apollo, From Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book VI. And Fro
© Phillis Wheatley
Apollo's wrath to man the dreadful spring
Of ills innum'rous, tuneful goddess, sing!
Lay not reproach at the drunkard's door
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
LAY not reproach at the drunkard's door
Oh Fanatic, thou that art pure of soul;
Not thine on the page of life to enrol
The faults of others! Or less or more
Flight Of Swans
© Robinson Jeffers
One who sees giant Orion, the torches of winter midnight,
Enormously walking above the ocean in the west of heaven;
Long Years Have Past Since Last I Stood
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
LONG years have past since last I stood
Alone amid this mountain scene,
Unlike the future which I dreamed,
How like my future it has been!
Guilo
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; thee alone.
Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.
The Missionary - Canto Eighth
© William Lisle Bowles
Oh, shout for Lautaro, the young and the brave!
The arm of whose strength was uplifted to save,
When the steeds of the strangers came rushing amain,
And the ghosts of our fathers looked down on the slain!
A Destiny
© Caroline Norton
And his two sons in careless beauty grew,
Like wild-flowers in his path: he mark'd them not,
Nor reck'd he what they needed, learnt, or knew,
Or what might be on earth their future lot;
But they died young--which is a thought of rest!
Unscorn'd, untempted, undefiled--so best.
