Life poems
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Fill The Goblet Again: A Song
© George Gordon Byron
Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;
Let us drink!--who would not?--since, through life's varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.
The Love Child
© William Barnes
Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,
Wi' his wide arches' cool sheäded bow,
Sights
© Leon Gellert
I saw a singer singing to a crowd,-
Singing of laughing life,- and all the while
He sang in tones so shrilly loud,
Not one man had a smile.
Anxiety
© Stéphane Mallarme
Her pure nails sprung up exalting their onyx,
Anxiety, this midnight, bearing light, sustains,
In twilight many dreams burnt up by the Phoenix
Whose scattered ashes no sepulchral urn contains
The Mirror Of Madmen
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
I dreamed a dream of heaven, white as frost,
The splendid stillness of a living host;
Vast choirs of upturned faces, line o'er line.
Then my blood froze; for every face was mine.
The Zouaves At Bethel
© Anonymous
Five Zouaves killed! - one thousand in all -
Five from a thousand? Then he may be one.
If in the havoc of bayonet and ball,
So many were killed, one may be my son.
And death, to the boy, all the glory he won.
Crows At Washington
© John Hay
Slow flapping to the setting sun
By twos and threes, in wavering rows.
As twilight shadows dimly close,
The crows fly over Washington.
The Childless Woman
© Harriet Monroe
O Mother of that heap of clay, so passive on your breast,
Now do you stare at death, woman, who yesterday were blest?
Homage To Sextus Propertius - IX
© Ezra Pound
1
The twisted rhombs ceased their clamour of accompaniment;
The scorched laurel lay in the fire-dust;
The moon still declined to descend out of heaven,
Akash Bhara Surya Tara Biswabhara Pran (Translation)
© Rabindranath Tagore
And in Wonder and Amazement I Sing
The sky is full of the sun and the stars
A Song of Defeat
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
The line breaks and the guns go under,
The lords and the lackeys ride the plain;
A Riverina Road
© Thomas William Heney
A land of camps where seldom is sojourning,
Where men like the dim fathers of our race
Halt for a time, and next day, unreturning,
Fare ever on apace.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter X - The Pope
© Robert Browning
Then Stephen, Pope and seventh of the name,
Cried out, in synod as he sat in state,
While choler quivered on his brow and beard,
Come into court, Formosus, thou lost wretch,
That claimedst to be late the Pope as I!
The Ballad Of The White Lady
© Edith Nesbit
SIR GEOFFREY met the white lady
Upon his marriage morn,
Her eyes were blue as cornflowers are,
Her hair was gold like corn.
Hearts Encouragement
© Madison Julius Cawein
Nor time nor all his minions
Of sorrow or of pain,
Shall dash with vulture pinions
The cup she fills again
Within the dream-dominions
Of life where she doth reign.
The Waterfall And The Eglantine
© William Wordsworth
What more he said I cannot tell,
The Torrent down the rocky dell
Came thundering loud and fast;
I listened, nor aught else could hear;
The Briar quaked--and much I fear
Those accents were his last.
Baby Wrens’ Voices by Thomas R. Smith : American Life in Poetry #232 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Lau
© Ted Kooser
I’ve built many wren houses since my wife and I moved to the country 25 years ago. It’s a good thing to do in the winter. At one point I had so many extra that in the spring I set up at a local farmers’ market and sold them for five dollars apiece. I say all this to assert that I am an authority at listening to the so small voices that Thomas R. Smith captures in this poem. Smith lives in Wisconsin.
Baby Wrens’ Voices
I am a student of wrens.
My Heart Is Like A Withered Nut!
© Caroline Norton
MY heart is like a withered nut,
Rattling within its hollow shell;
You cannot ope my breast, and put
Any thing fresh with it to dwell.
Hymns to the Night : 6 : Longing for Death
© Novalis
Blessed be the everlasting Night,
And blessed the endless slumber.
We are heated by the day too bright,
And withered up with care.
We're weary of a life abroad,
And we now want our Father's home.
