Life poems
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On our Thirty-ninth Wedding-day, 6th of May, 1810
© Odell Jonathan
Twice nineteen years, dear Nancy, on this dayComplete their circle, since the smiling MayBeheld us at the altar kneel and joinIn holy rites and vows, which made thee mine
Molly Odell on her Birthday
© Odell Jonathan
Amidst the rage of civil strife,The orphan's cries, the widow's tears,This day my rising dawn of lifeHas measured five revolving years.
Ode
© O'Shaughnessy Arthur
We are the music makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams,Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; --World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams:Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems
Living
© O'Reilly John Boyle
To toil all day and lie worn-out at night;To rise for all the years to slave and sleep,And breed new broods to do no other thingIn toiling, bearing, breeding -- life is thisTo myriad men, too base for man or brute
The Cry of the Dreamer
© O'Reilly John Boyle
I am tired of planning and toiling In the crowded hives of men;Heart-weary of building and spoiling, And spoiling and building again
"It's Great When You Get In"
© O'Neill Eugene
They told me the water was lovely, That I ought to go for a swim,The air was maybe a trifle cool, "You won't mind it when you get in"So I journeyed cheerfully beach-ward, And nobody put me wise,But everyone boosted my courage With an earful of jovial lies
The Dance at McDougall's
© O'Hagan Thomas
In a little log house near the rim of the forest With its windows of sunlight, its threshold of stone,Lived Donald McDougall, the quaintest of Scotchmen, And Janet his wife, in their shanty, alone:By day the birds sang them a chorus of welcome, At night they saw Scotland again in their dreams;They toiled full of hope 'mid the sunshine of friendship, Their hearts leaping onward like troutlets in streams, In the little log home of McDougall's
Voice of the Twentieth Century
© Robert Norwood
Voice of our Century, whose heart is broken,Weeping for those who will not come again--Lord Christ! hast thou been crucified in vain?--Challenge the right of every Tyrant's token:The fist of mail; the sceptre; ancient, oakenCoffers of gold for which thy sons are slain;The pride of place, which from the days of CainHath for the empty right of Power spoken!
Be like a trumpet blown from clouds of doomAgainst whatever seeks to bind on earth;Bring from the blood of battle, from the wombOf women weeping for their dead, the birthOf better days with banishment of wrong,Love in all hearts, on every lip--a song
Darwin
© Robert Norwood
Eternal night and solitude of space;Breath as of vapour crimsoning to flame;Far constellations moving in the sameInvariable order and the paceThat times the sun, or earth's elliptic raceAmong the planets: Life--dumb, blind and lame--Creeping from form to form, until her shameBlends with the beauty of a human face!
Death can not claim what Life so hardly wonOut of her ancient warfare with the Void--O Man! whose day is only now begun,Go forth with her and do what she hath done;Till thy last enemy--Death--be destroyed,And earth outshine the splendour of the sun
She Clothed Herself in Dreams
© Nicholls Marjory
She clothed herself in dreams all magical--Did ever Princess in a tale of oldShow half so daintily and rare as sheA lily exquisite--all white and gold?
Little Daughter
© Nicholls Marjory
My daughter, my little child Who, but yesterdayWas, in my count of the years But a child at play;My daughter, my little child Now wanders apartObsessed with some secret thought-- Some sorrow of heart.
I Scarce Believed
© Nicholls Marjory
I wondered once, when life, so it did seem,Was holding to me hands where gifts were laid,Gifts so long yearned for, that I felt afraidAnd, scarce believing, grasped as in a dream
The Empty Places
© Nicholls Marjory
A wind is sighing wistfullyDown the valley quiet and lonely,No green leaves to stir and quicken,Blowing over gray grass only.
Faith's Review and Expectation
© John Newton
## That sav'd a wretch like me!I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.
The Wanderer
© Newbolt Henry John
To Youth there comes a whisper out of the west: "O loiterer, hasten where there waits for theeA life to build, a love therein to nest, And a man's work, serving the age to be."
Vitai Lampada
© Newbolt Henry John
There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night-- Ten to make and the match to win--A bumping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in
The Doctor Readies The Breathing Tube
© Neilson Shane
Centimetred grace: coiled like a whip,entering a place where one can sing,or choke a note. Jiggly jangly, the tripdown the throat a long tunnel, no light
The Story of Sigurd the Volsung
© William Morris
But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious girth;But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread,And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said:"All hail, O Day and thy Sons, and thy kin of the coloured things!Hail, following Night, and thy Daughter that leadeth thy wavering wings!Look down With unangry eyes on us today alive,And give us the hearts victorious, and the gain for which we strive!All hail, ye Lords of God-home, and ye Queens of the House of Gold!Hail, thou dear Earth that bearest, and thou Wealth of field and fold!Give us, your noble children, the glory of wisdom and speech,And the hearts and the hands of healing, and the mouths and hands that teach!"
Then they turned and were knit together; and oft and o'er againThey craved, and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain
