Life poems
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Krishna Awakes
© Sant Surdas
Clusters of lotuses burst into bloom
the bumblebees humming with sweet sound
leave the lotuses;
as though the devout renouncing worldly ties,
in your love drowned
chant your name as they go about.
Say Not He Loves Me
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Say not he loves me as before, as truly, dearly
As once he did… Oh no! My life
He would destroy, he does destroy - though see I clearly
The trembling of the hand that holds the knife.
Chomei At Toyama
© Basil Bunting
Swirl sleeping in the waterfall!
On motionless pools scum appearing
disappearing!
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
The camp at great Jerusalem arrives:
In Nineveh.
© Robert Crawford
As he of Joppa sought to 'scape
The utterance of the given word,
And dared to get him from the Lord
In a ship down to Tarshish, know
The Skeleton Witness
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ROOTED in soil dull as a dead man's eye,
Dank with decay, yon ghastly oak aspires,
As if in mockery, to the alien sky,
Frowning afar through clouded sunset fires.
Grace Of Clydeside
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
AH, little Grace of the golden locks,
The hills rise fair on the shores of Clyde.
As the merry waves wear out these rocks
She wears my heart out, glides past and mocks:
But heaven's gate ever stands open wide.
The Challenge. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Third)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I have a vague remembrance
Of a story, that is told
In some ancient Spanish legend
Or chronicle of old.
Aspiration
© Madison Julius Cawein
God knows I strive against low lust and vice,
Wound in the net of their voluptuous hair;
God knows that all their kisses are as ice
To me who do not care.
It is not seemly to be famous...
© Boris Pasternak
It is not seemly to be famous:
Celebrity does not exalt;
There is no need to hoard your writings
And to preserve them in a vault.
The Creole Girl; Or, The Physicians Story
© Caroline Norton
SHE came to England from the island clime
Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave;
She died in early youth--before her time--
"Peace to her broken heart, and virgin grave!"
II.
The Blind Man Of Jericho
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
He sat by the dusty way-side,
With weary, hopeless mien,
On his furrowed brow the traces
Of care and want were seen;
With outstretched hand and with bowed-down head
He asked the passers-by for bread.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
Mrs. Moody
© James McIntyre
When this country it was woody,
Its great champion, Mrs. Moody,
She showed she had both pluck and push,
In her work, roughing in the bush.
The Evening Of The Holiday
© Giacomo Leopardi
The night is mild and clear, and without wind,
And o'er the roofs, and o'er the gardens round
Thompson Of Angels
© Francis Bret Harte
It is the story of Thompson--of Thompson, the hero of Angels.
Frequently drunk was Thompson, but always polite to the stranger;
Light and free was the touch of Thompson upon his revolver;
Great the mortality incident on that lightness and freedom.
John Marr And Other Sailors
© Herman Melville
Since as in night's deck-watch ye show,
Why, lads, so silent here to me,
His Epitaph
© William Henry Ogilvie
On a little old bush racecourse at the back of No Mans Land,
Where the mulgas mark the furlongs and a dead log marks the stand,
The First Of The Angels
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Hush! hush! through the azure expanse of the sky
Comes a low, gentle sound, 'twixt a laugh and a sigh;
And I rise from my writing, and look up on high,
And I kneel, for the first of God's angels is nigh!
