History poems
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The Bride Of The Nile - Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Belkís. I cannot do these sums
So long before the date. In the meanwhile talk to me.
I want to be amused. Life will go drearily
If we are to be like this. Let us play at something--chess,
Or draughts, or dominoes. Ask me a thing to guess--
An intellectual game.
"Them Old Cherry Words"
© James Whitcomb Riley
Pap he allus ust to say,
"Chris'mus comes but onc't a year!"
Past Hours
© Frances Anne Kemble
Two angels have them in eternal keeping.
He that beside the deep vaults of the past
Our Life
© Paul Eluard
Well not reach the goal one by one but in pairs
We know in pairs we will know all about us
Well love everything our children will smile
At the dark history or mourn alone
The Present Crisis
© James Russell Lowell
When a deed is done for Freedom, through the broad earth's aching breast
Runs a thrill of joy prophetic, trembling on from east to west,
And the slave, where'er he cowers, feels the soul within him climb
To the awful verge of manhood, as the energy sublime
Of a century bursts full-blossomed on the thorny stem of Time.
The Flood of Years
© William Cullen Bryant
A MIGHTY Hand, from an exhaustless Urn,
Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Years,
Rome: At the Pyramid Of Cestius. (Near The Graves Of Shelley & Keats)
© Thomas Hardy
Who, then, was Cestius,
And what is he to me? -
Amid thick thoughts and memories multitudinous
One thought alone brings he.
The Old Manor House
© Ada Cambridge
An old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown,
Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,-with a grand history of its own-
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years.
The Quaker Alumni
© John Greenleaf Whittier
From the well-springs of Hudson, the sea-cliffs of Maine,
Grave men, sober matrons, you gather again;
And, with hearts warmer grown as your heads grow more cool,
Play over the old game of going to school.
A Prospective Visit
© James Whitcomb Riley
While _any_ day was notable and dear
That gave the children Noey, history here
Book Fourteenth [conclusion]
© William Wordsworth
In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts
Promontory
© Arthur Rimbaud
Golden dawn and shivering evening find our brig lying by opposite
this villa and its dependencies which form a promontory
Ballade Of Unfortunate Mammals
© Dorothy Parker
Prince, a precept I'd leave for you,
Coined in Eden, existing yet:
Skirt the parlor, and shun the zoo-
Women and elephants never forget.
Address To My Infant Daughter, Dora On Being Reminded That She Was A Month Old That Day, September 1
© William Wordsworth
--HAST thou then survived-
Mild Offspring of infirm humanity,
Ode On Venice
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Oh Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls
Are level with the waters, there shall be
A cry of nations o'er thy sunken halls,
A loud lament along the sweeping sea!
If I, a northern wanderer, weep for thee,
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto I.
© George Gordon Byron
Nay, smile not at my sullen brow,
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.
The Banks Of Wye - Book IV
© Robert Bloomfield
Here ivy'd fragments, lowering, throw
Broad shadows on the poor below,
Who, while they rest, and when they die,
Sleep on the rock-built shores of WYE.
