Health poems
/ page 18 of 85 /David And Goliath. A Sacred Drama
© Hannah More
Great Lord of all things! Power divine!
Breathe on this erring heart of mine
Thy grace serene and pure:
Defend my frail, my erring youth,
And teach me this important truth--
The humble are secure!
The Revolt Of Islam: Canto I-XII
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
There is no danger to a man, that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.
-Chapman.
To A Young Ass, Its Mother Being Tethered Near It
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Poor little Foal of an oppressed race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
The Cloud
© Charles Harpur
And oh! she said, that by some act of grace
Twere mine to succour yon fierce-toiling race,
To give the hungry meat, the thirsty drink
The thought of good is very sweet to think.
Oerweening Statesmen Have Full Long Relied
© William Wordsworth
O'ERWEENING Statesmen have full long relied
On fleets and armies, and external wealth:
But from 'within' proceeds a Nation's health;
Which shall not fail, though poor men cleave with pride
The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans - The Third Book
© Robert Southey
The Maiden, musing on the Warrior's words,
Turn'd from the Hall of Glory. Now they reach'd
The Friend Of Humanity, And The Knife-Grinder
© John Hookham Frere
"Needy Knife-grinder! whether are you going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order-
Bleak blows the Blast;-your hat has got a hole in't,
So have your breeches!
On A Landscape Bt Rubens
© William Lisle Bowles
Nay, let us gaze, ev'n till the sense is full,
Upon the rich creation, shadowed so
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - December
© George MacDonald
1.
I AM a little weary of my life-
Verses Occasion'd By The Sickness Of Mrs. Anne Donnellan.
© Mary Barber
Goddess of Health, where--e'er you dwell,
To Philomela fly;
O hasten from your rural Cell,
Nor let the Fair one die.
The Empty Purse--A Sermon To Our Later Prodigal Son
© George Meredith
Thy knowledge of women might be surpassed:
As any sad dog's of sweet flesh when he quits
The wayside wandering bone!
No revilings of comrades as ingrates: thee
The tempter, misleader, and criminal (screened
By laws yet barbarous) own.
After A Lecture On Moore
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SHINE soft, ye trembling tears of light
That strew the mourning skies;
Hushed in the silent dews of night
The harp of Erin lies.
The Ancient Banner
© Anonymous
In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
Dear Jack
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill,
And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill,
Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot
As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot
In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass,
And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass.
A Servian Legend
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Long, long ago, ere yet our race began,
When earth was empty, waiting still for man,
Before the breath of life to him was given
The angels fell into a strife in heaven.
Songs with Preludes: Wedlock
© Jean Ingelow
The sun was streaming in: I woke, and said,
“Where is my wife,—that has been made my wife
Only this year?” The casement stood ajar:
I did but lift my head: The pear-tree dropped,
The great white pear-tree dropped with dew from leaves
And blossom, under heavens of happy blue.
The Restoration Of The Royal Family
© John Keble
As when the Paschal week is o'er,
Sleeps in the silent aisles no more
The breath of sacred song,
But by the rising Saviour's light
Awakened soars in airy flight,
Or deepening rolls along;
The Ballad Of The Solemn Ass
© Henry Van Dyke
Recited at the Century Club, New York: Twelfth Night. 1906
Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times,
Scenes From The Faust Of Goethe
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
CHORUS:
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Though none can comprehend Thee:
And all Thy lofty works
Are excellent as at the first day.
Elegy VI. To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
With no rich viands overcharg'd, I send
Health, which perchance you want, my pamper'd friend;