God poems
/ page 49 of 194 /The Old Flute
© Henry Van Dyke
The time will come when I no more can play
This polished flute: the stops will not obey
The Elgin Marbles
© Adelaide Crapsey
The clustered Gods, the marching lads,
The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed Three,
The Winner
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
The hulk of a man with a beer in his hand looked like a drunk old fool,
And I knew that if I hit him right, I could knock him off that stool.
But everybody said, "Watch out, that's Tiger Man McCool.
He's had a whole lot of fights, and he always come out the winner.
Yeah, he's a winner."
A Ioyfull medytacyon to all Englonde of the coronacyon of our moost naturall souerayne lorde kynge H
© Stephen Hawes
The prologue
The prudent problems/& the noble werkes
Of the gentyll poetes in olde antyquyte
Unto this day hath made famous clerkes
The Feet of the Young Men
© Rudyard Kipling
He must go - go - go away from here!
On the other side the world he's overdue.
'Send your road is clear before you where the old Spring-fret comes o'er you,
And the Red Gods call for you!
To The Future
© James Russell Lowell
O Land of Promise! from what Pisgah's height
Can I behold thy stretch of peaceful bowers,
Aletheia To Phraortes
© Walter Savage Landor
Phraortes! where art thou?
The flames were panting after us, their darts Had pierced to many hearts
Before the Gods, who heard nor prayer nor vow;
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 20
© William Langland
Thanne as I wente by the way, whan I was thus awaked,
Hevy chered I yede, and elenge in herte;
The Bridal of Pennacook
© John Greenleaf Whittier
No bridge arched thy waters save that where the trees
Stretched their long arms above thee and kissed in the breeze:
No sound save the lapse of the waves on thy shores,
The plunging of otters, the light dip of oars.
The Princess And The Goblins
© Sylvia Plath
From fabrication springs the spiral stair
up which the wakeful princess climbs to find
the source of blanching light that conjured her
The Worlds Convention Of The Friends Of Emancipation, Held In London In 1840
© John Greenleaf Whittier
YES, let them gather! Summon forth
The pledged philanthropy of Earth.
From every land, whose hills have heard
The bugle blast of Freedom waking;
The Golden Age
© Alfred Austin
Nor this the worst! When ripened Shame would hide
Fruits of that hour when Passion conquered Pride,
There are not wanting in this Christian land
The breast remorseless and the Thuggish hand,
To advertise the dens where Death is sold,
And quench the breath of baby-life for gold!
Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis 14
© William Wordsworth
"AND has the Sun his flaming chariot driven
Two hundred times around the ring of heaven,
Since Science first, with all her sacred train,
Beneath yon roof began her heavenly reign?
Niobe
© Robert Laurence Binyon
``Zeus, and ye Gods, that rule in heaven above,
Is there naught holy, or to your hard hearts dear?
Have ye forgotten utterly to love,
Or to be kind, in that untroubled sphere?
If aught ye cherish, still by that I pray,
Destroy the life that ye have cursed this day!
Elegy In April And September (Jabbered Among The Trees)
© Wilfred Owen
Hush, thrush! Hush, missen-thrush, I listen…
I heard the flush of footsteps through the loose leaves,
And a low whistle by the water's brim.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 01 - part 03
© Torquato Tasso
XXVI
"Turks, Persians conquered, Antiochia won,
An Urban Convalescence
© James Merrill
As usual in New York, everything is torn down
Before you have had time to care for it.
Head bowed, at the shrine of noise, let me try to recall
What building stood here. Was there a building at all?
I have lived on this same street for a decade.