God poems
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Canto I: And Then Went Down to the Ship
© Ezra Pound
And then went down to the ship,
Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Sicilian's Tale; The Bell of Atri
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds,
Rented his vineyards and his garden-grounds,
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all,
To starve and shiver in a naked stall,
And day by day sat brooding in his chair,
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare.
Hymn.The Word Of Promise
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
[Written by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, eldest son of Rev.
ABIEL HOLMES, eighth Pastor of the First Church in
Cambridge, Massachusetts.]
Alfred. Book III.
© Henry James Pye
Fix'd on the arid spot, whose scanty bounds
On every side the deep morass surrounds,
The monarch, and his martial friend, with care,
'Gainst close surprise and bold attack prepare;
Exert each art their safety to ensure,
And every pass, with wary eye, secure.
The Faithful Few: An Ode
© William Hamilton
While Pow'r triumphant bears unrival'd Sway,
Propt by the Aid of all-prevailing Gold;
While bold Corruption blasts the Face of Day,
And Men, in Herds, are offer'd to be sold;
Select, Urania, from the venal Throng,
The Faithful Few, to grace the deathless Song!
Sonnet 15
© Richard Barnfield
A[h] fairest Ganymede, disdaine me not,
Though silly Sheepeheard I, presume to loue thee,
Second Nature
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN I was young how fair the skies,
Such folly of cloud, such blue depths wise,
Such dews of morn, such calms of eve,
So many the lure and the reprieve--
Life seemed a toy to break and mend
And make a charm of in the end.
Written At Mycenae
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I saw a weird procession glide along
The vestibule before the
Lion's gate;
A Man of godlike limb and warrior state,
Bourke
© Henry Lawson
Save grit and generosity of hearts that broke and healed again
The hottest drought that ever blazed could never parch the hearts of men;
And they were men in spite of all, and they were straight, and they were true,
The hat went round at troubles call, in Ninety-one and Ninety-two.
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Judgment Of Paris
© Thomas Parnell
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
Oglethorpe
© Madison Julius Cawein
An Ode to be read on the laying of the foundation
stone of the new Oglethorpe University,
Sonnet Cycle For Lady Magdalen
© John Donne
Her of your name, whose fair inheritance
Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo:
Contrasted Songs: Remonstrance
© Jean Ingelow
Daughters of Eve! your mother did not well:
She laid the apple in your father’s hand,
And we have read, O wonder! what befell,—
The man was not deceived, nor yet could stand:
He chose to lose, for love of her, his throne,—
With her could die, but could not live alone.
The Last Ode
© Rudyard Kipling
As watchers couched beneath a Bantine oak,
Hearing the dawn-wind stir,
Know that the present strength of night is broke
Though no dawn threaten her
Till dawn's appointed hour-so Virgil died,
Aware of change at hand, and prophesied
The Judgment Of Paris
© James Beattie
Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove,
A scene for love and solitude design'd;
Where flowery woodbines wild, by Nature wove,
Form'd the lone bower, the royal swain reclined.
The Mind of the Frontispeece and Argument of this Worke
© George Sandys
FIRE, AIRE, EARTH, WATER, all the Opposites
That stroue in Chaos, powrefull LOVE vnites;
A Eros (To Eros)
© Alfonsina Storni
HE AQUI que te cacé por el pescuezo
a la orilla del mar, mientras movías
las flechas de tu aljaba para herirme
y vi en el suelo tu floreal corona.
Tasso Dying
© Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
But it's too late! I stand before the fatal borne.
To wild applause I won't step on Capitoline,
And glory's laurels on my feeble head
Won't sweeten the bard's frightful lot.
The Blossoming Of The Solitary Date-Tree. A Lament
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I.
Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. 'What no one with us shares, seems scarce our own.' The presence of a ONE,
The best belov'd, who loveth me the best,
is for the heart, what the supporting air from within is for the hollow globe with its suspended car. Deprive it of this, and all without, that would have buoyed it aloft even to the seat of the gods, becomes a burthen and crushes it into flatness.
