Life poems
/ page 142 of 844 /
From CLIO
© Martha Sansom
We every Day grew dearer to each other. I was then
indeed as blind as he. I gave him every Perfection, and
began to love in earnest. How did I want a Friend to
guard me from this Precipice, where Love was leading
me, to warn me of this Serpent, who was sacking out the
Sweetness of my Soul, and laying every Art to destroy it!
The Old Play
© Kenneth Slessor
I
IN an old play-house, in an old play,
In an old piece that has been done to death,
We dance, kind ladies, noble friends.
To the Right Honourable William, Earl of Dartmouth
© Phillis Wheatley
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The War Budget
© Jessie Pope
To foot the bill it's only fair
That everyone should do their share,
And since we all are served the same,
Pay and look pleasant that's the game.
The Philosopher
© Emily Jane Brontë
Enough of thought, philosopher!
Too long hast thou been dreaming
Unlightened, in this chamber drear,
While summer's sun is beaming!
Space-sweeping soul, what sad refrain
Concludes thy musings once again?
Faith
© Ada Cambridge
Let go the myths and creeds of groping men.
This clay knows naught - the Potter understands.
I own that Power divine beyond my ken,
And still can leave me in His shaping hands.
But, O my God, that madest me to feel,
Forgive the anguish of the turning wheel!
The Lady of the Lake: Canto III. - The Gathering
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
Time rolls his ceaseless course. The race of yore,
Who danced our infancy upon their knee,
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store
The Woman of Samaria
© George MacDonald
In the hot sun, for water cool
She walked in listless mood:
When back she ran, her pitcher full
Forgot behind her stood.
An Inscription for a Temple - Dedicated to the Graces (at Woburn-Abbey)
© Samuel Rogers
Approach with reverence. There are those within,
Whose dwelling-place is Heaven. Daughters of Jove,
From them flow all the decencies of Life;
Without them nothing pleases, Virtue's self
In February
© Alice Meynell
To all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat,
And to the Spring waiting beyond the portal,
And to the future of my own young art,
And, among all these things, to you, my sweet,
My friend, to your calm face and the immortal
Child tarrying all your life-time in your heart.
The Ships Of Saint John
© Bliss William Carman
Frenchman and Britisher and Dane,
Yankee, Spaniard and Portugee,
And many a home ship back again
With her stories of the sea.
Sweetheart, Goodbye
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SWEETHEART, good-bye! Our varied day
Is closing into twilight gray,
And up from bare, bleak wastes of sea
The north-wind rises mournfully;
Elegiac Feelings American
© Gregory Corso
Aye, what happened to you, dear friend, compassionate friend,
is what is happening to everyone and thing of
planet the clamorous sadly desperate planet now
one voice less. . . expendable as the wind. . . gone,
and who'll now blow away the awful miasma of
sick, sick and dying earthflesh-soul America
The Lady Of La Garaye - Part I
© Caroline Norton
So, till the day when over Dinan's walls
The Autumn sunshine of my story falls;
And the guests bidden, gather for the chase,
And the smile brightens on the lovely face
That greets them in succession as they come
Into that high and hospitable home.
In The Country English Translation
© Rabindranath Tagore
Here I get him closest to my heart -
As close is the earth beneath my feet
Haunted Streets
© Mathilde Blind
The face of faces we again behold
That lit our life when life was very fair,
And leaps our heart toward eyes and mouth and hair:
Oblivious of the undying love grown cold,
Or body sheeted in the churchyard mould,
We stretch out yearning hands and grasp-the air.
On A Symphony Of Beethoven
© Frances Anne Kemble
Terrible music, whose strange utterance
Seemed like the spell of some dread conscious trance;
