Life poems

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The Long and the Short of It

© Venright Steve

The good news is that Jesus has returned.The bad news is that he's brought his family.The result is that nothing will ever be the same again (not that it ever was).

Thanks to thy newly-wedded hand, which gaveThese bridal honours to the tomb to-day,A daughter's wedding posy! Who shall sayIt is a truant at a father's grave?O'er the blue hills, fair Edith, thou art gone;Thou and thy votive flowers are sunder'd wide;But still ye are so tenderly alliedOn earth, that your twin sweetness shall be oneIn heaven

St. Augustine and Monica

© Turner Charles (Tennyson)

When Monica's young son had felt her kiss --Her weeping kiss -- for years, her sorrow flowedAt last into his wilful blood; he owedTo her his after-life of truth and bliss:And her own joy, what words, what thoughts could paint!When o'er his soul, with sweet constraining force,Came Penitence -- a fusion from remorse --And made her boy a glorious Christian saint

Sonnets. Part I, XVIII

© Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

And Change, with hurried hand, has swept these scenes:The woods have fallen; across the meadow-lotThe hunter's trail and trap-path is forgot;And fire has drunk the swamps of evergreens!Yet for a moment let my fancy plantThese autumn hills again, -- the wild dove's haunt,The wild deer's walk

Sonnets, II

© Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

The Old School

© Tsiriotakis Helen

But to say what you want to say you must createanother language and nourish it for yearsand years with what you have loved

Apeirophobia

© Tierney Matthew

Uncaged. Run from it,go ahead, try. Wherever you areit's there. Cousin to zero

A Poem, Addressed to the Lord Privy Seal, on the Prospect of Peace

© Thomas Tickell

To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song

Sonnets from the Portuguese iii

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

GO from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand

Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore

Sonnets from the Portuguese i

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung

Of the sweet years the dear and wish'd-for years

Evolution

© Thornely Thomas

When Nature set herself to work, she did it in a way,Which seems a little odd to us, who order things today

The Young Captive

© Thorley Wilfred Charles

"The sickle spares the springing corn

Self-Communing

© Thorley Wilfred Charles

Be wise, my sorrow, quit thy vain unrest

On a Dead Girl

Lovely she was, if so be Night That slumbers in the sombre shrine.There laid by sculptor Michael's might Unmoving in her marble line.

Ballade Made for his Mother that She mighte Praye toe our Ladye

Ladye of heaven that o'er earth hath swaye And of Hell's marshes art most Royal Reeve,Grant toe thy humble Christian that doth praye

The Seasons: Summer

From brightening fields of ether fair-disclos'd,Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes,In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:He comes, attended by the sultry HoursAnd ever-fanning Breezes, on his way;While, from his ardent look, the turning SpringAverts her blushful face; and earth and skies,All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves