Life poems
/ page 138 of 844 /
Speranza
© Jean Ingelow
England puts on her purple, and pale, pale
With too much light, the primrose doth but wait
To meet the hyacinth; then bower and dale
Shall lose her and each fairy woodland mate.
April forgets them, for their utmost sum
Of gift was silent, and the birds are come.
You Never Can Tell
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
You never can tell when you send a word,
Like an arrow shot from a bow
By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,
Just where it may chance to go!
A Song For Old Age
© Madison Julius Cawein
Now nights grow cold and colder,
And North the wild vane swings,
And round each tree and boulder
The driving snow-storm sings--
Come, make my old heart older,
O memory of lost things!
The Weakling
© Arthur Henry Adams
I AM a weakling. God, who made
The still, strong man, made also me.
On a Street
© Henry Kendall
I dread that street - its haggard face
I have not seen for eight long years;
To A Billy
© James Lister Cuthbertson
OLD BILLYbattered, brown and black
With many days of camping,
Amy Wentworth
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Her fingers shame the ivory keys
They dance so light along;
The bloom upon her parted lips
Is sweeter than the song.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
TO HER WHO WOULD COMFORT HIM
I did not ask your pity, dear. Your zeal
I know. It cannot cure me of my woes.
And you, in your sweet happiness, who knows,
The Freeborn
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
God made the man and bid him multiply,
Replenish the green earth, nor break the die
Hate You, Christ, I Do Not
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Hate you, Christ, I do not, or seek. I believe
In you as in the others gods, your elders.
I count you as neither more nor less
Than they are, merely newer.
The Lady Of La Garaye - A Threnody
© Caroline Norton
HOW Memory haunts us! When we fain would be
Alone and free,
Uninterrupted by his mournful words,
Faint, indistinct, as are a wind-harp's chords
A Figurative Description Of The Procedure Of Divine Love
© William Cowper
'Twas my purpose, on a day,
To embark, and sail away.
As I climbed the vessel's side,
Love was sporting in the tide;
"Come," he said, "ascendmake haste,
Launch into the boundless waste."
The Native Land. (From The Spanish Of Francisco De Aldana)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Clear fount of light! my native land on high,
Bright with a glory that shall never fade!
Chloris Appearing In A Looking Glass
© Thomas Parnell
Oft have I seen a Piece of Art,
Of Light and Shade, the Mixture fine,
De Te
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
A burning glass of burnished brass,
The calm sea caught the noontide rays,
A Festal Ode
© Confucius
With sounds of happiness the deer
The salsola crop in the fields.
What noble guests surround me here!
Each lute for them its music yields.
Sound, sound the lutes, or great or small.
The joy harmonious to prolong;--
The Lord of the Isles: Canto II.
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Fill the bright goblet, spread the festive board!
