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Cooranbean
© Henry Kendall
Years fifty, and seven to boot, have smitten the children of men
Since sound of a voice or a foot came out of the head of that glen.
Character Of The Happy Warrior
© William Wordsworth
Who is the happy Warrior? Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be?
-It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Home
© Emily Dickinson
Years I had been from home,
And now, before the door
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before
The Crowded Street
© William Cullen Bryant
Let me move slowly through the street,
Filled with an ever-shifting train,
Amid the sound of steps that beat
The murmuring walks like autumn rain.
The Way To Make Friends
© Edgar Albert Guest
THE way to make friends is as easy
As breathing the fresh morning air;
Margrave
© Robinson Jeffers
But who is our judge? It is likely the enormous
Beauty of the world requires for completion our ghostly increment,
It has to dream, and dream badly, a moment of its night.
Svend Vonved
© George Borrow
Svend Vonved sits in his lonely bower;
He strikes his harp with a hand of power;
His harp return'd a responsive din;
Then came his mother hurrying in:
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
Genesis BK XXI
© Caedmon
(ll. 1400-1406) But no harm came nigh unto the ark, save that it
was lifted up to heaven, when the flood destroyed all creatures
on the earth; but Holy God, the Eternal King, the Lord of heaven,
stern of heart, preserved the ark when He unleashed the ocean
currents and their changing streams.
Introduction: Pippa Passes
© Robert Browning
Now wait!-even I already seem to share
In God's love: what does New-year's hymn declare?
What other meaning do these verses bear?
England's Fields
© Lloyd Roberts
England's cliffs are white like milk,
But England's fields are green;
The grey fogs creep across the moors,
But warm suns stand between.
And not so far from London town, beyond the brimming street,
A thousand little summer winds are singing in the wheat.
The Old Player
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE curtain rose; in thunders long and loud
The galleries rung; the veteran actor bowed.
The House That Was
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Of the old house, only a few, crumbled
Courses of brick, smothered in nettle and dock,
The Profession. A Sketch
© Alaric Alexander Watts
On Santa Croce's golden-pillared shrine,
A thousand tapers pour their blended rays
To the Many
© Anna Akhmatova
I -- am your voice, the warmth of your breath,
I -- am the reflection of your face,
The futile trembling of futile wings,
I am with you to he end, in any case.
Sydney-Side
© Henry Lawson
Oh, there never dawned a morning, in the long and lonely days,
But I thought I saw the ferries streaming out across the bays
And as fresh and fair in fancy did the picture rise again
As the sunrise flushed the city from Woollahra to Balmain:
The Mountain Whippoorwill
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Listen to my fiddle Kingdom ComeKingdom Come!
Hear the frogs a-chunkin "Jug o rum, Jug o' rum!"
Hear that mountain-whippoorwill be lonesome in the air.
An Ill tell yuh how I traveled to the Essex County Fair.
Dorchester Amphitheatre .
© John Kenyon
By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
The Sylph Of Summer
© William Lisle Bowles
God said, Let there be light, and there was light!
At once the glorious sun, at his command,
