Life poems

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As dropping moisture on December flowers, As sunlight breaking o'er the August plain,As shines the Virgin on the midnight hours, So is thy presence at the bed of pain;And as the flowers revive to bloom more fair, And o'er the plain the wattles burst in fire,And midnight hours to morn at last repair, So hope and life thy minist'rings inspire;And though for me there's but the life and hope That lie abundant past the gates of Death,Yet thither as with feeble steps I grope Thy friendly arm assists my failing breath;Nor will I deem of Providence the worseWho sent me pain to send me thee for nurse

A Sonnet of Faith

© William Gay

I am not daunted by the show of things,Nor do I pass them with averted eyes,Feigning I do not see, nor on the wingsOf fair deluding fancy lightly riseAnd from afar the radiant world beholdIn happy silence spinning smoothly by

The Singer

© William Gay

Nay! sing no more thy wild delusive strain(I heard them say, while I my song pursued),'Tis but the rage of thy delirious brain(I heard them say, yet still my song renewed);Nay! sing no more with reckless, idle breathOf man immortal and of life to come,For one brief moment scan the face of death,Then be thy foolish song for ever dumb;Behold the dusty ash that once was fire,And mark the summer leaf in autumn fall,Watch thou the wavering breath of man expire,And know that Death hath lordship over all(I heard them say with many a scornful word,Yet still sang on as one who nothing heard)

Sistrum

© Fuller Margaret

Triune, shaping, restless power,Life-flow from life's natal hour,No music chords are in thy sound;By some thou'rt but a rattle found;Yet, without thy ceaseless motion,To ice would turn their dead devotion

Flaxman

© Fuller Margaret

We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone, Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought, And in the forms of gods and heroes wroughtEternal beauty from the sculptured stone,-A higher charm than modern culture won With all the wealth of metaphysic lore, Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore

‘Ach, I Dunno!’

© William Percy French

I'm simply surrounded by lovers, Since Da made his fortune in land;They're comin' in crowds like the plovers To ax for me hand

Abdul Abulbul Ameer

© William Percy French

The sons of the Prophet are brave men and boldAnd quite unaccustomed to fearBut the bravest by far in the ranks of the ShahWas Abdul Abulbul Ameer

X Mon. December [1744] hath xxxi days.

© Benjamin Franklin

This World's an Inn, all Travellers are we;And this World's Goods th'Accommodations be

VI Mon. August [1742] hath xxxi days.

© Benjamin Franklin

The Busy-Man's Picture BUSINESS, thou Plague and Pleasure of my Life,Thou charming Mistress, thou vexatious Wife;Thou Enemy, thou Friend, to Joy, to Grief,Thou bring'st me all, and bring'st me no Relief,Thou bitter, sweet, thou pleasing, teazing Thing,Thou Bee, that with thy Honey wears a Sting;Some Respite, prithee do, yet do not give,I cannot with thee, nor without thee live

V Mon. July [1747] hath xxxi days.

© Benjamin Franklin

Men drop so fast, ere Life's mid Stage we tread,Few know so many Friends alive as dead;Yet, as immortal, in our uphill Chace,We press coy Fortune with unslacken'd Pace;Our ardent Labours for the Toy we seek,Join Night to Day, and Sunday to the Week,Our very Joys are anxious, and expireBetween Satiety and fierce Desire

Christ's Triumph after Death

© Giles Fletcher The Younger

IBegan to glister in her beams, and nowThe roses of the day began to flow'rIn th' eastern garden; for Heav'ns smiling browHalf insolent for joy begun to show: The early Sun came lively dancing out, And the brag lambs ran wantoning about,That heav'n, and earth might seem in triumph both to shout

The Purple Island

© Phineas Fletcher

CANTO I1

Hence, all you vain delights

© John Fletcher

Hence, all you vain delights,As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly,There's nought in this life sweet,If man were wise to see't But only melancholy, Oh, sweetest melancholy

Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

© Edward Fitzgerald

IHas flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caughtThe Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

The Tree

Fair tree! for thy delightful shade'Tis just that some return be made;Sure some return is due from meTo thy cool shadows, and to thee

Watching the Oregon Whale

© Annie Finch

A hard gray wave, her fin, walks out on the waterthat thickens to open and then parts open, around her.

The Women of the West

They left the vine-wreathed cottage and the mansion on the hill,The houses in the busy streets where life is never still,The pleasures of the city, and the friends they cherished best:For love they faced the wilderness -- the Women of the West