Life poems
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Advice: to himself
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Sad Catullus, stop playing the fool,
and let what you know leads you to ruin, end.
On The Death Of Prince Meshchersky
© Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin
O, Voice of time! O, metal's clang!
Your dreadful call distresses me,
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book V - Pativrata-Mahatmya - (Woman's Love)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The great _rishi_ Vyasa came to visit Yudhishthir, and advised Arjun,
great archer as he was, to acquire celestial arms by penance and
worship. Arjun followed the advice, met the god SIVA in the guise
of a hunter, pleased him by his prowess in combat, and obtained his
blessings and the _pasupata_ weapon. Arjun then went to INDRA'S
heaven and obtained other celestial arms.
The Moon
© James Russell Lowell
So was my soul; but when 'twas full
Of unrest to o'erloading,
A voice of something beautiful
Whispered a dim foreboding,
And yet so soft, so sweet, so low,
It had not more of joy than woe;
The Loving Shepherdess
© Robinson Jeffers
She dreamed that a two-legged whiff of flame
Rose up from the house gable-peak crying, "Oh! Oh!"
And doubled in the middle and fled away on the wind
Like music above the bee-hives.
The Poet's Dead
© Mikhail Lermontov
He's slain - and taken by the grave
Like that unknown, but happy bard,
Victim of jealousy wild,
Of whom he sang with wondrous power,
Struck down, like him, by an unyielding hand.
An American Tale
© Helen Maria Williams
"Ah! pity all the pangs I feel,
If pity e'er ye knew;-
An aged father's wounds to heal,
Through scenes of death I flew.
On Memphis Station
© Johannes Vilhelm Jensen
Half awake and half dozing,
Struck by a drear reality, but still lost
In an inner sea fog of Danaidean dreams
I stand teeth chattering
On Memphis Station, Tennessee.
It is raining.
Hyperion. Book I
© John Keats
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Life
© Jones Very
IT is not life upon Thy gifts to live,
But, to grow fixed with deeper roots in Thee;
An Hour
© Henry Van Dyke
You only promised me a single hour:
But in that hour I journeyed through a year
Songs Written to Welsh Airs
© Amelia Opie
How fondly I gaze on the fast falling-leaves,
That mark, as I wander, the summer's decline;
And then I exclaim, while my conscious heart heaves,
"Thus early to droop and to perish be mine!"
The End Of The Century
© Madison Julius Cawein
There are moments when, as missions,
God reveals to us strange visions;
When, within their separate stations,
We may see the Centuries,
Like revolving constellations
Shaping out Earth's destinies.
Life
© James Weldon Johnson
Out of the infinite sea of eternity
To climb, and for an instant stand
Upon an island speck of time.
From the impassible peace of the darkness
To wake, and blink at the garish light
Through one short hour of fretfulness.
Lines On Mr. Hodgson Written On Board The Lisbon Packet
© George Gordon Byron
Huzza! Hodgson, we are going,
Our embargo's off at last;
The Haunted Chamber. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Each heart has its haunted chamber,
Where the silent moonlight falls!
On the floor are mysterious footsteps,
There are whispers along the walls!
My Verses
© Kostas Karyotakis
My verses, children of my blood.
They speak, but I supply the words
like fragments of my heart,
I offer them like tears from my eyes.
It's a Boy
© Edgar Albert Guest
The doctor leads a busy life, he wages war with death;
Long hours he spends to help the one who's fighting hard for breath;
He cannot call his time his own, nor share in others' fun,
His duties claim him through the night when others' work is done.
And yet the doctor seems to be God's messenger of joy,
Appointed to announce this news of gladness: "It's a boy!"
