God poems
/ page 108 of 194 /
An Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty
© Edmund Spenser
Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,
Through contemplation of those goodly sights,
To De Witt Miller
© Eugene Field
Dear Miller: You and I despise
The cad who gathers books to sell 'em,
Be they but sixteen-mos in cloth
Or stately folios garbed in vellum.
The Columbiad: Book VIII
© Joel Barlow
On fame's high pinnacle their names shall shine,
Unending ages greet the group divine,
Whose holy hands our banners first unfurl'd,
And conquer'd freedom for the grateful world.
Paradise Regain'd: Book II (1671)
© Patrick Kavanagh
MEan while the new-baptiz'd, who yet remain'd
At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen
Sonnet
© Robert Hass
A man talking to his ex-wife on the phone.
He has loved her voice and listens with attention
Christian
© Ambrose Bierce
I dreamed I stood upon a hill, and, lo!
The godly multitudes walked to and fro
Sacred And Profane Love
© Alfred Austin
Profane Love speaks
``I am the Goddess mortals call Profane,
Yet worship me as though I were divine;
Over their lives, unrecognised, I reign,
For all their thoughts are mine.
Beowulf (Old English version)
© Pierre Reverdy
Hwæt. We Gardena in geardagum,
þeodcyninga, þrym gefrunon,
From Whose Beauty the Depths Are Lit
© Pierre Reverdy
When one stands before the throne of glory, he begins reciting
A Workman to the Gods
© Edwin Markham
Once Phidias stood, with hammer in his hand,
Carving Minerva from the breathing stone,
Retired Ballerinas, Central Park West
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Retired ballerinas on winter afternoons
walking their dogs
Hyacinth
© Louise Gluck
2
There were no flowers in antiquity
but boys’ bodies, pale, perfectly imagined.
So the gods sank to human shape with longing.
In the field, in the willow grove,
Apollo sent the courtiers away.
Praeludium
© Benjamin Jonson
And must I sing? What subject shall I choose!
Or whose great name in poets' heaven use,
For the more countenance to my active muse?
I Gili Romaneskro
© Charles Godfrey Leland
Schunava, ke baschno del a godla,
Schunava Paschomaskro.
Te del miro Dewel tumen
Dschavena Bachtallo.
To the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth
© Phillis Wheatley
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
KING. Yes, from this rocky height,
Nigh to the sun, that with one starry light
Its rugged brow doth crown,
Headlong among the salt waves leaping down
Let him descend who so much pain perceives;
There let him raging die who raging lives.
