Life poems
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The Rose-Bush
© Anonymous
There was a rose-bush in a garden growing,
Its tender leaves unfolding day by day;
The sun looked-on, and his down-going
Left it amid the starlit dusk of nights of May.
Mia Carlotta
© Thomas Augustine Daly
GIUSEPPE, da barber, ees greata for "mash,"
He gotta da bigga, da blacka mustache,
At Home
© Valery Yaklovich Bryusov
It's all so familiar and clear,
My eye's accustomed to every turn;
I'm not mistaken- I'm at home;
The wallpaper flowers, the chains of books…
Miners
© Wilfred Owen
There was a whispering in my hearth,
A sigh of the coal.
Grown wistful of a former earth
It might recall.
The Curse of Mother Flood
© Henry Kendall
Wizened the wood is, and wan is the way through it;
White as a corpse is the face of the fen;
To Elsie Fogerty
© Robert Laurence Binyon
On living lips to mould and modulate
The shapes of sound, that each may mirror true
The mystery of the word and breathe it new
Into the entranced ear, warm and intimate;
The Journey From School And To School
© Charles Lamb
O what a joyous joyous day
Is that on which we come
At the recess from school away,
Each lad to his own home!
The Winds of Fate
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
A Man And His Image
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
All day the nations climb and crawl and pray
In one long pilgrimage to one white shrine,
Where sleeps a saint whose pardon, like his peace,
Is wide as death, as common, as divine.
"Give Us A Call!"
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Give us a call! We keep good beer,
Wine, and brandy, and whiskey here;
An Epistle To George William Curtis
© James Russell Lowell
Curtis, whose Wit, with Fancy arm in arm,
Masks half its muscle in its skill to charm,
See Where The Thames, The Purest Stream
© William Cowper
See where the Thames, the purest stream
That wavers to the noon-day beam,
Divides the vale below;
While like a vein of liquid ore
His waves enrich the happy shore,
Still shining as they flow.
The Two Ships
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
On the sea of life they floated,
Brothers twain in manhood's pride,
My Father’s Left Hand by David Bottoms : American Life in Poetry #235 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet La
© Ted Kooser
I tell my writing students that their most important task is to pay attention to what’s going on around them. God is in the details, as we say. Here David Bottoms, the Poet Laureate of Georgia, tells us a great deal about his father by showing us just one of his hands.
My Father’s Left Hand
Sometimes my old man’s hand flutters over his knee, flaps
Book First [Introduction-Childhood and School Time]
© William Wordsworth
OH there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 1.
© William Cowper
Adam, arise, since I do thee impart
A spirit warm from my benignant breath:
Arise, arise, first man,
And joyous let the world
Embrace its living miniature in thee!
The Grave-Digger
© Emile Verhaeren
In the garden yonder of yews and death,
There sojourneth
A man who toils, and has toiled for aye.
Digging the dried-up ground all day.
The Freeman
© Ellen Glasgow
A VAGABOND between the East and West,
Careless I greet the scourging and the rod;
I fear no terror any man may bring,
Nor any god.
Sonnets LLXXI:LXXII:LXXIII: The Choice
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I
Eat thou and drink; to-morrow thou shalt die.
