Life poems

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The Fools

© Muriel Stuart

BELOW, the street was hoarse with cries,
With groan of carts and scuffling feet,
With laughter worse than blasphemies,
Was choked with dust and blind with heat,
This room was still-too still for peace.

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Olney Hymn 8: O Lord, I Will Praise Thee

© William Cowper

I will praise Thee every day
Now Thine anger's turn'd away;
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleeding sacrifice.

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Embroidery

© Margaret Widdemer

SHE sits and makes pink roses with her thread

And wonders what to do, her heart astir,

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The Spring of Love

© Friedrich Rückert

Dearest, thy discourses steal
  From my bosom's deep, my heart
  How can I from thee conceal
  My delight, my sorrow's smart?

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Wives By The Dozen

© Matthew Prior

O Death how thou spoil'st the best project of life,

Said Gabriel, who still as he bury'd one wife,

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Rappelle-Toi

© Henry Van Dyke

Remember, when the timid light

  Through the enchanted hall of dawn is gleaming;

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The Gifts

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

I GIVE you Life, O child, a garden fair;
I give you Love, a rose that blossoms there--
I give a day to pluck it and to wear!

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Leggett’s Monument

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Yes, pile the marble o'er him! It is well

That ye who mocked him in his long stern strife,

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Me prove it now—Whoever doubt

© Emily Dickinson

Me prove it now—Whoever doubt
Me stop to prove it—now—
Make haste—the Scruple! Death be scant
For Opportunity—

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A New Year's Plea

© Edgar Albert Guest

Lord, let me stand in the thick of the fight,
Let me bear what I must without whining;
Grant me the wisdom to do what is right,
Though a thousand false beacons are shining.

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At The Funeral Of A Minor Poet

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

[One of the Bearers Soliloquizes:]

. . . Room in your heart for him, O Mother Earth,

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I Will Smile No More

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

No, I will smile no more. Love's touch of pleasure
Shall be as tears to me, fair words as gall,
The sun as blackness, friends as a false measure,
And Spring's blithe pageant on this earthly ball,
If it should brag, shall earn from me no praise
But silence only to my end of days.

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Tale XIX

© George Crabbe

THE CONVERT.

Some to our Hero have a hero's name

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Lines On The Anio At Tivoli

© Frances Anne Kemble

One river from the mountain springs was born,

  Into three several streams its course was torn.

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A Naughty Little Comet

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler


The mother of the comet was a very good old star;
She used to scold her reckless child for venturing out too far.

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Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.

© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus

Should mix with ours, the vanquished.  Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."

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The Eld

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Oh! blessèd, blessèd be the Eld,
Its echoes and its shades,--
The tones that from all time outswelled,
The light that never fades;--

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Dedication

© Lola Ridge

I would be a torch unto your hand,
A lamp upon your forehead, Labor,
In the wild darkness before the Dawn
That I shall never see…

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The pilgrimage to Mecca

© George Canning

What holy rites Mohammed's laws ordain,


What various duties bind his faithful train,-

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The Princes' Quest - Part the Second

© William Watson

A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep,

And mighty store of secrets hath in keep;