Life poems
/ page 131 of 844 /In the Armenian Mountains
© Hovhannes Toumanian
The way was heavy and the night was dark,
And yet we survived
Both sorrow and gloom.
Through the ages we go and gaze at the stark
Steep heights of our land-
The Armenian Highlands.
What The Wind Said
© James Whitcomb Riley
'I muse to-day, in a listless way,
In the gleam of a summer land;
I close my eyes as a lover may
At the touch of his sweetheart's hand,
And I hear these things in the whisperings
Of the zephyrs round me fanned':--
The Time For Brotherhood
© Edgar Albert Guest
When a fellow's feeling blue,
And is troubled, through and through
Marmion: Canto V. - The Court
© Sir Walter Scott
Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone;
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
The Old Apple-Tree
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THERE's a memory keeps a-runnin'
Through my weary head to-night,
Les Phares (The Beacons)
© Charles Baudelaire
Rubens, fleuve d'oubli, jardin de la paresse,
Oreiller de chair fraîche où l'on ne peut aimer,
Mais où la vie afflue et s'agite sans cesse,
Comme l'air dans le ciel et la mer dans la mer;
Monody, Written At Matlock
© William Lisle Bowles
Matlock! amid thy hoary-hanging views,
Thy glens that smile sequestered, and thy nooks
Uriconium An Ode
© Wilfred Owen
It lieth low near merry England's heart
Like a long-buried sin; and Englishmen
A Boy And His Dad
© Edgar Albert Guest
A boy and his dad on a fishing trip-
There is a glorious fellowship!
An Old Sermon With a New Text
© George MacDonald
My wife contrived a fleecy thing
Her husband to infold,
For 'tis the pride of woman still
To cover from the cold:
My daughter made it a new text
For a sermon very old.
A Pot of Red Lentils by Peter Pereira: American Life in Poetry #53 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 20
© Ted Kooser
In the yard we plant
rhubarb, cauliflower, and artichokes,
cupping wet earth over tubers,
our labor the germ
of later sustenance and renewal.
St. George's Day
© Hristo Botev
"Rejoice, o people! Old and young
Praise God today, and praise the king!
'Tis Saint George's Day," the sheep gave tongue
As they trotted along behind their king,
The Poor Of The Borough. Letter XX: Ellen Orford
© George Crabbe
"No charms she now can boast,"--'tis true,
But other charmers wither too:
An Ode - Inscribed To The Memory Of The Hon. Colonel George Villiers
© Matthew Prior
For restless Proserpine for ever treads
In paths unseen, o'er our devoted heads,
And on the spacious land and liquid main
Spreads slow disease, or darts afflictive pain:
Variety of deaths confirms her endless reign.
Sonnet - Scottish Border
© James Russell Lowell
As sinks the sun behind yon alien hills
Whose heather-purple slopes, in glory rolled,
Glenfinlas; or, Lord Ronald's Coronach
© Sir Walter Scott
"O hone a rie'! O hone a rie!"
The pride of Albin's line is o'er,
And fall'n Glenartney's stateliest tree;
We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald more!" -
Kitchen Poem
© Francis Scarfe
In the hungry kitchen
The dog sings for its dinner.
The housewife is writing her poem
On top of the frigidaire
Something like this:
The Joys We Miss
© Edgar Albert Guest
There never comes a lonely day but that we miss the laughing ways
Of those who used to walk with us through all our happy yesterdays.
We seldom miss the earthly great-the famous men that life has known-
But, as the years go racing by, we miss the friends we used to own.
Dulciora
© Henry Van Dyke
A tear that trembles for a little while
Upon the trembling eyelid, till the world
Wavers within its circle like a dream,
Holds more of meaning in its narrow orb
Than all the distant landscape that it blurs.