Life poems
/ page 167 of 844 /
Fragment VII
© James Macpherson
Son of Oscian, said Dermid, I love;
O Oscur, I love this maid. But her
soul cleaveth unto thee; and nothing
can heal Dermid. Here, pierce this
bosom, Oscur; relieve me, my friend,
with thy sword.
Windy Night (Haoyar Rat)
© Jibanananda Das
My heart filled with the scent of a vast green grassy veldt,
With horizon-flooding blazing sunlight scent,
With the restless, massive, vibrant, woolly outburst of darkness,
Like growls of an aroused tigress,
With life's untamable blue intoxication!
Hypotheses Hypochondriacae
© Charles Kingsley
And should she die, her grave should be
Upon the bare top of a sunny hill,
Windsor Forest
© Alexander Pope
Thy forests, Windsor! and thy green retreats,
At once the Monarch's and the Muse's seats,
A Small Room In Aspen
© William Matthews
Stains on the casements,
dustmotes, spiderless webs.
No chairs, and a man waking up,
or he's falling asleep
Book Second [School-Time Continued]
© William Wordsworth
THUS far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
Unvisited, endeavoured to retrace
Don Juan: Canto The First
© George Gordon Byron
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Bedtime
© Edgar Albert Guest
It's bedtime, and we lock the door,
Put out the lights--the day is o'er;
All that can come of good or ill,
The record of this day to fill,
Is written down; the worries cease,
And old and young may rest in peace.
The Shadow Of Dawn
© William Ernest Henley
The shadow of Dawn;
Stillness and stars and over-mastering dreams
Of Life and Death and Sleep;
Heard over gleaming flats, the old, unchanging sound
Of the old, unchanging Sea.
Upon the death of my ever desired friend Doctor Donne Dean of Pauls
© Henry King
To have liv'd eminent in a degreee
Beyond our lofty'st flights, that is like thee;
Or t'have had too much merit is not safe;
For such excesses find no Epitaph.
My Heart Thy Lark
© George MacDonald
Why dost thou want to sing
When thou hast no song, my heart?
If there be in thee a hidden spring,
Wherefore will no word start?
Proverbs
© William Baylebridge
One continent, one creed, one skin -
Our health and savour lie therein.
Red
© Leon Gellert
Place that bayonet in my hand,
And fill this pouch with lead;
Show me the blood and leave me, and let me
Stand
By my dead.
1916 seen from 1921
© Edmund Blunden
Tired with dull grief, grown old before my day,
I sit in solitude and only hear
Under A Stagnant Sky
© William Ernest Henley
O Death! O Change! O Time!
Without you, O, the insuperable eyes
Of these poor Might-Have-Beens,
These fatuous, ineffectual Yesterdays!
The Poet Laberius
© Oliver Goldsmith
PART OF A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS
A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CAESAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE
Parting
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN hides the sun behind a bank of cloud,
Though well we know the sun is shining still,
The Dream Of Dread
© Madison Julius Cawein
I have lain for an hour or twain
Awake, and the tempest is beating
On the roof, and the sleet on the pane,
And the winds are three enemies meeting;
And I listen and hear it again,
My name, in the silence, repeating.
