God poems

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Venus's Looking-Glass

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

I marked where lovely Venus and her court

With song and dance and merry laugh went by;

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The Letter of Cupid

© Thomas Hoccleve

Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance

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From Mythology

© Zbigniew Herbert

First there was a god of night and tempest, a black idol without eyes, before whom they leaped, naked and smeared with blood. Later on, in the times of the republic, there were many gods with wives, children, creaking beds, and harmlessly exploding thunderbolts. At the end only superstitious neurotics carried in their pockets little statues of salt, representing the god of irony. There was no greater god at that time.

  Then came the barbarians. They too valued highly the little god of irony. They would crush it under their heels and add it to their dishes.

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The New Zealot To The Sun

© Herman Melville

Persian, you rise
Aflame from climes of sacrifice
  Where adulators sue,
And prostrate man, with brow abased,
Adheres to rites whose tenor traced
  All worship hitherto.

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Fragment

© Joseph Rodman Drake


I.

TUSCARA! thou art lovely now,

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The Tower Beyond Tragedy

© Robinson Jeffers

I

You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's

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Celia To Damon

© Matthew Prior

What can I say? What Arguments can prove
My Truth? What Colors can describe my Love?
If it's Excess and Fury be not known,
In what Thy Celia has already done?

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Quinti Catuli.

© Richard Lovelace

  QUINTI CATULI.
Constiteram exorientem Auroram forte salutans,
  Cum subito a laeva Roscius exoritur.
Pace mihi liceat, coelestes, dicere vestra.

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Storm

© Wilfred Owen

His face was charged with beauty as a cloud
  With glimmering lightning. When it shadowed me
  I shook, and was uneasy as a tree
That draws the brilliant danger, tremulous, bowed.

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Autumn

© Edgar Albert Guest

The leaves are falling one by one,

The Summer days are past and gone,

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Cantata. Set By Mons. Galliard

© Matthew Prior

Recit.

Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade

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Glubbdubdrib

© Kenneth Slessor

  IN the castle of Glubbdubdrib

  How spendidly we dine

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Three Day's Ride

© Stephen Vincent Benet

"FROM Belton Castle to Solway side,

Hard by the bridge, is three days' ride."

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The Regiment of Princes

© Thomas Hoccleve

Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse


Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,

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The Cōuercyon of Swerers

© Stephen Hawes

The fruytfull sentence & the noble werkes
To our doctryne wryten in olde antyquyte
By many grete and ryght notable clerkes
Grounded on reason & hyghe auctoryte

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Threnody

© Bion of Smyrna

I weep for Adonais--he is dead!

  Dead Adonais lies, and mourning all,

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Agamemnon’s Tomb

© Emma Lazarus

Uplift the ponderous, golden mask of death,

And let the sun shine on him as it did

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Homage To Sextus Propertius - IX

© Ezra Pound

1
The twisted rhombs ceased their clamour of accompaniment;
The scorched laurel lay in the fire-dust;
The moon still declined to descend out of heaven,

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The Ring And The Book - Chapter X - The Pope

© Robert Browning

“Then Stephen, Pope and seventh of the name,
“Cried out, in synod as he sat in state,
“While choler quivered on his brow and beard,
“‘Come into court, Formosus, thou lost wretch,
“‘That claimedst to be late the Pope as I!’