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/ page 27 of 465 /The Progress Of The Rose
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The days of old, the good old days,
Whose misty memories haunt us still,
Demand alike our blame and praise,
And claim their shares of good and ill.
Some Boys are Born to Wander by Walter McDonald: American Life in Poetry #48 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet L
© Ted Kooser
Every parent can tell a score of tales about the difficulties of raising children, and then of the difficulties in letting go of them. Here the Texas poet, Walt McDonald, shares just such a story.
Some Boys are Born to Wander
From Michigan our son writes, How many elk?
How many big horn sheep? It's spring,
and soon they'll be gone above timberline,
The Young Novice
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The lights yet gleamed on the holy shrine, the incense hung around,
But the rites were oer, the silent church re-echoed to no sound;
Yet kneeling there on the altar steps, absorbed in ardent prayer,
Is a girl, as seraph meek and pureas seraph heavnly fair.
Old Cambridge
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AND can it be you've found a place
Within this consecrated space,
The Graves of Gallipoli
© Anonymous
THE herdman wandering by the lonely rills
Marks where they lie on the scarred mountain's flanks,
Remembering that wild morning when the hills
Shook to the roar of guns, and those wild ranks
Surged upward from the sea.
They Who Return
© Katharine Tynan
Into the stricken house who steals on quiet feet
And sudden brings the sunshine it used to wear?
Whose is the tender whisper that turns the bitter sweet?
Whose kiss is on your forehead, whose breath in your hair?
Pharsalia - Book X: Caesar In Egypt
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Caesar's ears in vain
Had she implored, but aided by her charms
The wanton's prayers prevailed, and by a night
Of shame ineffable, passed with her judge,
She won his favour.
The Truant Dove, From Pilpay
© Charlotte Turner Smith
A MOUNTAIN stream, its channel deep
Beneath a rock's rough base had torn;
The River Of Dreams
© Henry Van Dyke
The river of dreams runs quietly down
From its hidden home in the forest of sleep,
All Blest Are They
© Sant Tukaram
All blest are they whose heart with pity grows.
Who left Vaikuntha.their home,to serve mankind;
Who slight their person's needs ( it is not myth)
Whose hearts are broad ; Whose lips with honey flow .
Ode On The Sailing Of Our Troops For France
© John Jay Chapman
Go fight for Freedom, Warriors of the West!
At last the word is spoken: Go!
Lay on for Liberty. 'Twas at her breast
The tyrant aimed his blow;
And ye were wounded with the rest
In Belgium's overthrow.
The Columbiad: Book IX
© Joel Barlow
Shrouded in deeper darkness now he veers
The vast gyration of a thousand years,
Strikes out each lamp that would illume his way,
Disputes his food with every beast of prey;
Imbands his force to fence his trist abodes,
A wretched robber with his feudal codes.
Hope, An Allegorical Sketch
© William Lisle Bowles
I am the comforter of them that mourn;
My scenes well shadowed, and my carol sweet,
England's Day: A War-Saga
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Commended To Gortschakoff, Grant, And Bismark; And Dedicated To The British
1871
The Arras Road
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
The early night falls on the plain
In cloud and desolating rain.
I see no more, but feel around
The ruined earth, the wounded ground.
To Hilaire Belloc
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
For every tiny town or place
God made the stars especially;
Gitanjali
© Rabindranath Tagore
1.
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
The Bush Fire
© Charles Harpur
What this might be he wonderedbut not long;
Divining soon the causea vast Bush Fire!
But deeming it too distant yet for harm,
During the night betiding, to repose
With his bed-faring household he retired.