God poems
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On the Morning of Christ's Nativity
© John Milton
This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King,Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace
The River
© John Masefield
All other waters have their time of peace.Calm, or the turn of tide or summer drought;But on these bars the tumults never cease,In violent death this river passes out.
Breath
© Marquis Donald Robert Perry
We are the shaken slaves of Breath:For logic leaves the race unstirred;But cadence, and the vibrant word,Are lords of life, are lords of death.
Villanelle of Mutton
© MacInnes Tom
Very sick and tired am I Of stewed prunes, and apples dried,And this our mutton that once was lamb!
Like to the Clear in Highest Sphere
© Thomas Lodge
Like to the clear in highest sphereWhere all imperial glory shines,Of selfsame colour is her hair,Whether unfolded or in twines: Heigh ho, fair Rosalind
Red Geranium and Godly Mignonette
© David Herbert Lawrence
Imagine that any mind ever thought a red geranium!As if the redness of a red geranium could be anything but a sensual experienceand as if sensual experience could take place before there were any senses
Salve Deus Rex Iudæorum
© Lanyer Æmilia
Now Pontius Pilate is to judge the CauseOf faultlesse Jesus, who before him stands;Who neither hath offended Prince, nor Lawes,Although he now be brought in woefull bands:O noble Governour, make thou yet a pause,Doe not in innocent blood imbrue thy hands; But heare the words of thy most worthy wife, Who sends to thee, to beg her Sauiours life
Zimbabwe
© Andrew Lang
INTO the darkness whence they came, They passed -- their country knoweth none,They and their gods without a name Partake the same oblivion
April
© Andrew Lang
April, pride of woodland ways, Of glad days,April, bringing hope of prime,To the young flowers that beneath Their bud sheathAre guarded in their tender time;
Acon and Rhodope; or, Inconstancy
© Walter Savage Landor
The Year's twelve daughters had in turn gone by,Of measured pace tho' varying mien all twelve,Some froward, some sedater, some adorn'dFor festival, some reckless of attire
The Obstructionist
© Knox Edmund George Valpy
She was not built upon a beauteous plan; I did not like her face or features much,The lady who was talking to the man Behind the little hutch.
Flint and Feather
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.
The King's Quire
© James I of Scotland
Bewailing in my chamber thus allone, Despeired of all joye and remedye,For-tirit of my thoght, and wo begone, Unto the wyndow gan I walk in hye, To se the warld and folk that went forby;As for the tyme, though I of mirthis fudeMyght have no more, to luke it did me gude
