Health poems
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Endymion
© John Keats
BOOK IIts loveliness increases; it will neverPass into nothingness; but still will keepA bower quiet for us, and a sleepFull of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing
The Metamorphosed Gypsies
© Benjamin Jonson
The fairy beam upon you,The stars to glister on you; A moon of light In the noon of night,Till the fire-drake hath o'ergone you
London: A Poem, in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal
© Samuel Johnson
Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel,
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.
A Shropshire Lad LXII: "Terence, this is stupid stuff
© Alfred Edward Housman
"Terence, this is stupid stuff:You eat your victuals fast enough;There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear,To see the rate you drink your beer
A Charm for a Mad Woman
© Gabriel Harvey
O heavenly med'cine, panacea high,Restore this raging woman to her health,More worth than hugest sums of worldly wealth,Exceedingly more worth than any wealth.
Palliative Care
© Greene Richard
The journey goes past healing to placeslike this, where Demerol and morphineseparate the last of our consciousnessfrom a body shrinking away to pain
Father O'Flynn
© Graves Alfred Perceval
Of priests we can offer a charmin' variety,Far renowned for larnin' and piety;Still, I'd advance you, widout impropriety, Father O'Flynn as the flower of them all.
The Deserted Village, A Poem
© Oliver Goldsmith
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain,Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd:Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green,Where humble happiness endear'd each scene!How often have I paus'd on every charm,The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm,The never-failing brook, the busy mill,The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill,The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,For talking age and whisp'ring lovers made!How often have I blest the coming day,When toil remitting lent its turn to play,And all the village train, from labour free,Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree;While many a pastime circled in the shade,The young contending as the old survey'd;And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground,And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd,Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd;The dancing pair that simply sought renownBy holding out to tire each other down:The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love,The matron's glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like theseWith sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please:These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms--but all these charms are fled
My Mind to me a Kingdom Is
© Sir Edward Dyer
My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I findThat it excels all other bliss Which God or nature hath assign'd.Though much I want that most would have,Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
The Baby in the Ward
© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson
We were all sore and broken and keen on sleep,Tumours and hearts and dropsies, there we lay,Weary of night and wearier of day,With no more health in us than rotten sheep
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Part IA silver ring that he had beaten outFrom that same sacred coin--first well-priz'd wageFor boyish labour, kept thro' many years
Anacreontics
© Abraham Cowley
The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,And drinks, and gapes for drink again
