Life poems
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O Fons Bandusae
© Henry Austin Dobson
O BABBLING Spring, than glass more clear,
Worthy of wreath and cup sincere,
What The Traveller Said At Sunset
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The shadows grow and deepen round me,
I feel the deffall in the air;
The muezzin of the darkening thicket,
I hear the night-thrush call to prayer.
Song Of The Many
© Edgar Albert Guest
This is the song of the many
Who seldom are mentioned in praise,
The Grain Tribute
© Bai Juyi
There came an officer knocking by night at my door
In a loud voice demanding grain-tribute.
Liberty
© Edward Thomas
The last light has gone out of the world, except
This moonlight lying on the grass like frost
Free
© Alfred Austin
Joy! Free, at last, from vulgar thrall:
No longer need my voice be dumb;
And quicker far than thou canst call,
O Italy, I come!
The Lost Statesman
© John Greenleaf Whittier
AS they who, tossing midst the storm at night,
While turning shoreward, where a beacon shone,
Meet the walled blackness of the heaven alone,
So, on the turbulent waves of party tossed,
Second Nature
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN I was young how fair the skies,
Such folly of cloud, such blue depths wise,
Such dews of morn, such calms of eve,
So many the lure and the reprieve--
Life seemed a toy to break and mend
And make a charm of in the end.
The Better Part
© Matthew Arnold
Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
The Writer's Dream
© Henry Lawson
And the last that were born of a noble racewhen the page of the South was fair
The last of the conquered dwelt in peace with the last of the victors there.
He saw their hearts with the authors eyes who had written their ancient lore,
And he saw their lives as hed dreamed of suchah! many a year before.
And Ill write a book of these simple folk ere I to the world return,
And the cold who read shall be kind for theseand the wise who read shall learn.
As I Watche'd The Ploughman Ploughing
© Walt Whitman
AS I watch'd the ploughman ploughing,
Or the sower sowing in the fields-or the harvester harvesting,
I saw there too, O life and death, your analogies:
(Life, life is the tillage, and Death is the harvest according.)
Srahmandazi
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Deep embowered beside the forest river,
Where the flame of sunset only falls,
Lapped in silence lies the House of Dying,
House of them to whom the twilight calls.
Dead Leaves
© Edward Booth Loughran
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
Sonnet XXXVII: The Love-Moon
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
"When that dead face, bowered in the furthest years,
Which once was all the life years held for thee,
Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind
© Barnabe Googe
The oftener seen, the more I lust,
The more I lust, the more I smart,
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Hanging Of Black Kudjo
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WELL, Maussa! if you wants to heer, I'll tell you 'bout um 'true.
Doh de berry taut ob dat bad time is fit to tun me blue;
A sort ob brimstone blue on black, wid jist a stare o' wite,
As when dem cussed Tory come fur wuck deir hate dat nite!
