God poems
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Mithridates At Chios
© John Greenleaf Whittier
KNOW'ST thou, O slave-cursed land!
How, when the Chian's cup of guilt
Invictus: The Unconquerable
© William Ernest Henley
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
A Low Temple
© Arun Kolatkar
A low temple keeps its gods in the dark.
You lend a matchbox to the priest.
One by one the gods come to light.
Danube And The Euxine
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
"Danube, Danube! wherefore com'st thou
Red and raging to my caves?
Nobility
© Kostas Karyotakis
Make your pain into a harp.
Become a nightingale,
become a flower.
When bitter years arrive,
make your pain into a harp
and sing the one song.
On King William's Happy Deliverance from the Intended Assassination
© Charles Sackville
The youth whose fortune the vast globe obey'd,
Finding his royal enemy betray'd
With Scindia To Delhi
© Rudyard Kipling
More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi,
an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost
with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps,
on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety.
A Maratta trooper tells the story: -
Paradise Lost : Book IX.
© John Milton
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: LII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
Lame, impotent conclusion to youth's dreams
Vast as all heaven! See, what glory lies
Entangled here in these base stratagems,
Hero And Leander: The First Sestiad
© Christopher Marlowe
On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Derne
© John Greenleaf Whittier
NIGHT on the city of the Moor!
On mosque and tomb, and white-walled shore,
On sea-waves, to whose ceaseless knock
The narrow harbor gates unlock,
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf X. -- Raud The Strong
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"All the old gods are dead,
All the wild warlocks fled;
From A Lost Anthology
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
IN A STRANGE LAND.
By an unnamed river-anchorage have we raised a shrine to Apollo. If these strange winds cool the grass where he sleeps, we know not, nor if he will hear us. But round about grows the dark laurel, and here also the young oak fattens her acorns against the end of the wheat-harvest.
Lamia. Part I
© John Keats
Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
On A Certain Religious Argument
© Edgar Albert Guest
Argue it pro and con as you will,
And flout each other with words,
But the rose will bloom and the summer still
Will bring us the song of birds.
Disappointment
© Ovid
But oh, I suppose she was ugly; she wasn't elegant;
I hadn't yearned for her often in my prayers.
Yet holding her I was limp, and nothing happened at all:
I just lay there, a disgraceful load for her bed.
Epitaph of Eurymedon
© Theocritus
Thou hast gone to the grave, and abandoned thy son
Yet a babe, thy own manhood but scarcely begun.
Thou art throned among gods: and thy country will take
Thy child to her heart, for his brave father's sake.
