Health poems
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The Old Flame
© Robert Lowell
My old flame, my wife!
Remember our lists of birds?
One morning last summer, I drove
by our house in Maine. It was still
on top of its hill -
The Sun Has Set
© Emily Jane Brontë
The sun has set, and the long grass now
Waves dreamily in the evening wind;
And the wild bird has flown from that old gray stone
In some warm nook a couch to find.
Grace Jennings Carmicheal
© Henry Lawson
I hate the pen, the foolscap fair,
The poets corner, and the page,
Thoughts on Imputed Righteousness - Occasioned by Reading Theron and Aspasio : Part IV.
© John Byrom
What num'rous texts from Paul, from ev'ry saint,
Might furnish our citations, did we want?
Tale XII
© George Crabbe
'SQUIRE THOMAS; OR THE PRECIPITATE CHOICE.
'Squire Thomas flatter'd long a wealthy Aunt,
Operation
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Time, the superb physician, drew his breath,
"I'll just remove Youth, Health and Love," he said,
"The rest is for Consulting-Surgeon Death."
God, how I hated that peremptory head!
As through the ether came his sickening drawl
"Now this won't hurt. . . . Oh, it won't hurt at all."
Celestial Heights
© Alfred Austin
Hail! steep ascents and winding ways,
Glimmering through melting morning haze,
Hail! mountain herd-bells chiming clear!
Hail! meads and cherry-orchards green,
And hail, thrice hail! thou golden mean,
The châlet's simple cheer!
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto V
© Richard Savage
My hermit thus. She beckons us away:
Oh, let us swift the high behest obey!
The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo
© Anne Bradstreet
When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
The Task : Complete
© William Cowper
In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.
Hunger
© Arthur Rimbaud
Beneath the bush a wolf will howl, Spitting bright feathers
From his feast of fowl: Like him, I devour myself.
Waiting to be gathered, Fruits and grasses spend their hours;
The spider spinning in the hedge, Eats only flowers.
Let me sleep! Let me boil, On the altars of Solomon;
Let me soak the rusty soil, And flow into Kendron.
The Shepheardes Calender: May
© Edmund Spenser
May: AEgloga Quinta. Palinode & Piers.
Palinode.
IS not thilke the mery moneth of May,
When loue lads masken in fresh aray?
Accolon Of Gaul: Part II
© Madison Julius Cawein
"She comes! her presence, like a moving song
Breathed soft of loveliest lips and lute-like tongue,
Sways all the gurgling forests from their rest:
I fancy where her rustling foot is pressed,
So faltering, love seems timid, but how strong
That darling love that flutters in her breast!
The Library
© George Crabbe
When the sad soul, by care and grief oppress'd,
Looks round the world, but looks in vain for rest;
On The Death Of Damon. (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
Ye Nymphs of Himera (for ye have shed
Erewhile for Daphnis and for Hylas dead,
The Departure. AN ELEGY.
© Henry King
VVere I to leave no more then a good friend,
Or but to hear the summons to my end,
(Which I have long'd for) I could then with ease
Attire my grief in words, and so appease
Christmas Day
© John Keble
What sudden blaze of song
Spreads o'er th' expanse of Heaven?
In waves of light it thrills along,
Th' angelic signal given -
"Glory to God!" from yonder central fire
Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry choir;
Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer
© James Whitcomb Riley
The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'
locus' trees;
The Rosy Bosomd Hours
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
A florin to the willing Guard
Secured, for half the way,
