God poems
/ page 117 of 194 /Jenny
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
It was a careless life I led
When rooms like this were scarce so strange
Not long ago. What breeds the change,
The many aims or the few years?
Because to-night it all appears
Something I do not know again.
To Delia
© William Cowper
Me to whatever state the gods assign,
Believe, my love, whatever state be mine,
The Peacemaker
© Harriet Monroe
To the world-wanderer Samarkand is near,
The broad Pacific but a narrow strait.
Haymaking
© Edward Thomas
Aftear night’s thunder far away had rolled
The fiery day had a kernel sweet of cold,
Alicante Lullaby
© Sylvia Plath
In Alicante they bowl the barrels
Bumblingly over the nubs of the cobbles
Vanity Fair
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In Vanity Fair, as we bow and smile,
As we talk of the opera after the weather,
Essay on Psychiatrists
© Robert Pinsky
It's crazy to think one could describe them—
Calling on reason, fantasy, memory, eyes and ears—
As though they were all alike any more
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 15
© William Langland
Ac after my wakynge it was wonder longe
Er I koude kyndely knowe what was Dowel.
The Suicide
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Last was the wealth I carried in life's pack-
Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust but Time
The Intruder
© Christopher Morley
AS I sat, to sift my dreaming
To the meet and needed word,
Came a merry Interruption
With insistence to be heard.
The Pillar Towers of Ireland
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The pillar towers of Ireland, how wondrously they stand
By the lakes and rushing rivers through the valleys of our land;
In mystic file, through the isle, they lift their heads sublime,
These gray old pillar temples, these conquerors of time!
from Omeros
© Derek Walcott
In hill-towns, from San Fernando to Mayagüez,
the same sunrise stirred the feathered lances of cane
down the archipelago’s highways. The first breeze
After Reading Trollope's History Of Florence
© Eugene Field
My books are on their shelves again
And clouds lie low with mist and rain.
Afar the Arno murmurs low
The tale of fields of melting snow.
List to the bells of times agone
The while I wait me for the dawn.
The Battle Of Naseby
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Oh! wherefore come ye forth, in triumph from the North,
With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red?
And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout?
And whence be the grapes of the wine-press which ye tread?
Convict Once - Part First.
© James Brunton Stephens
I.
FREE again! Free again! eastward and westward, before me, behind me,
Wide lies Australia! and free are my feet, as my soul is, to roam!
Oh joy unwonted of space undetermined! No limit assigned me!
Freedom conditioned by nought save the need and desire of a home!