Life poems
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My Wife Is A Most Knowing Woman
© Stephen C. Foster
My wife is a most knowing woman,
She always is finding me out,
The Man Who Saw
© William Watson
The master weavers at the enchanted loom
Of Legend, weaving long ago those tales
To a Lady, with Some Coloured Patterns of Flowers
© William Shenstone
Madam,-
Though rude the draughts, though artless seem the lines,
Lord Of Unnumbered Hopes
© Govinda Krishna Chettur
Make grow our comprehension till we see
Through life's bewildering complexity
The touch by which inscrutably is wrought
Thy will: and shape each word, each act, each thought,
Until we learn to read Thy will aright
And pass from shadow to Eternal Light.
Gautama
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
All life, he taught, hath been, all life must be
Accursed! the gift of demons! All delight
Lies at the far-off goal of pulseless peace.
"Pray," sighed he, "that this breath of men shall cease;
Our hell is earth, our heaven eternal night;
Our only godhead vague Nonentity!"
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto III.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!
Under The April Moon
© Bliss William Carman
OH, well the world is dreaming
Under the April moon,
Her soul in love with beauty,
Her senses all a-swoon!
Sitting On The Shore
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
THE tide has ebbed away:
No more wild dashings 'gainst the adamant rocks,
Nor swayings amidst sea-weed false that mocks
The hues of gardens gay:
Trivia; or the Art of Walking the Streets of London: Book I.
© John Gay
Of the Implements for Walking the Streets,
and Signs of the Weather.
Empire Building
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"I'll teach them how to work, and how to pray."
Oh, John, you never think before your day
Rome was, Greece wascan one believe it true?
Great Egypt died, and never heard of you!
Charles Harpur
© Henry Kendall
So let him sleep, the rugged hymns
And broken lights of woods above him!
And let me sing how sorrow dims
The eyes of those that used to love him.
Wanderers Song
© Arthur Symons
I have had enough of women, and enough of love,
But the land waits, and the sea waits, and day and night is enough;
Give me a long white road, and the grey wide path of the sea.
And the wind's will and the bird's will, and the heart-ache still in me.
Arisen At Last
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I SAID I stood upon thy grave,
My Mother State, when last the moon
Of blossoms clomb the skies of June.
And, scattering ashes on my head,
The Singer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Years since (but names to me before),
Two sisters sought at eve my door;
Two song-birds wandering from their nest,
A gray old farm-house in the West.
Sin
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is a legend of an old Hartz tower
That tells of one, a noble, who had sold
The Old Flute
© Henry Van Dyke
The time will come when I no more can play
This polished flute: the stops will not obey
The Princes Quest - Part the Sixth
© William Watson
Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out
The green heart of the waters round about,
