Life poems
/ page 254 of 844 /Written In The Beginning Of Mezeray's History Of France
© Matthew Prior
Whate'er thy countrymen have done
By law and wit, by sword and gun,
In thee is faithfully recited,
And all the living world that view
Thy work, give thee the praises due
At once instructed and delighted.
A Clock Stopped Not The Mantel's
© Emily Dickinson
A clock stopped - not the mantel's
Geneva's farthest skill
Can't put the puppet bowing
That just now dangled still.
Carmen Triumphale
© Henry Timrod
Go forth and bid the land rejoice,
Yet not too gladly, O my song!
Breathe softly, as if mirth would wrong
The solemn rapture of thy voice.
Solitude
© John Henry Newman
There is in stillness oft a magic power
To calm the breast, when struggling passions lower;
Marmion: Introduction to Canto I
© Sir Walter Scott
November's sky is chill and drear,
November's leaf is red and sear:
The Winter Lakes
© William Wilfred Campbell
Lands that loom like spectres, whited regions of winter,
Wastes of desolate woods, deserts of water and shore;
A world of winter and death, within these regions who enter,
Lost to summer and life, go to return no more.
The Australian
© Arthur Henry Adams
ONCE more this Autumn-earth is ripe,
Parturient of another type.
Transience
© Sarojini Naidu
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,
Dawn will not veil her splendour for your grief,
Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty
To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
Abide With Me
© Henry Francis Lyte
Abide with me! Fast falls the Eventide;
The darkness thickens. Lord, with me abide
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
Alfred. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
He ceasedbut still the accents of his tongue
Persuasive, on the attentive hearers hung:
The monarch and his warlike thanes around
Still listening sat, in silent wonder bound.
Venice
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
WHILE the skies of this northern November
Scowl down with a darkening menace,
I wonder if you still remember
That marvellous summer in Venice.
Banalata Sen
© Jibanananda Das
I remember her hair dark as night at Vidisha,
Her face an image of Sravasti as the pilot,
Undone in the blue milieu of the sea,
Never twice saw the earth of grass before him,
I have seen her, Banalata Sen of Natore.
Windsor Poetics : Lines Composed On The Occasion Of His Royal Highness The Prince Regent Being Seen
© George Gordon Byron
Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies;
Between them stands another sceptred thing--
It moves, it reigns--in all but name, a king:
The Last Giustianini
© Edith Wharton
O WIFE, wife, wife! As if the sacred name
Could weary one with saying! Once again
Laying against my brow your lips' soft flame,
Join with me, Sweetest, in love's new refrain,
Since the whole music of my late-found life
Is that we call each other "husband -- wife."
The Two Lovers Of Heaven: Chrysanthus And Daria - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Chrysanthus is seen seated near a writing table on which are several
books: he is reading a small volume with deep attention.
The Turtle And Sparrow. An Elegiac Tale
© Matthew Prior
Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies,
Pale are his cheeks, and closed his eyes;
Those eyes, where beauty smiling lay,
Those eyes, where Love was used to play;
Ah! cruel Fate, alas how soon
That beauty and those joys are flown!
The Church Of Brou
© Matthew Arnold
Down the Savoy valleys sounding,
Echoing round this castle old,
'Mid the distant mountain-chalets
Hark! what bell for church is toll'd?