Life poems
/ page 284 of 844 /
Bridegroom Dick
© Herman Melville
All this, old lassie, you have heard before,
But you listen again for the sake e'en o' me;
No babble stales o' the good times o' yore
To Joan, if Darby the babbler be.
What Of The Day
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A SOUND of tumult troubles all the air,
Like the low thunders of a sultry sky
Far-rolling ere the downright lightnings glare;
The hills blaze red with warnings; foes draw nigh,
Paradise Lost : Book III.
© John Milton
Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven firstborn,
Or of the Eternal coeternal beam
The Lord of the Isles: Canto I.
© Sir Walter Scott
Here pause we, gentles, for a space;
And, if our tale hath won your grace,
Grant us brief patience, and again
We will renew the minstrel strain.
Fog
© Robinson Jeffers
Invisible gulls with human voices cry in the sea-cloud
"There is room, wild minds,
Two Scenes From The Life Of Blondel
© James Russell Lowell
SCENE I.--_Near a castle in Germany._
'Twere no hard task, perchance, to win
Afterwards
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
SHE opened her moist crimson lips to sing;
And from her throat that is so white and full
Vestigia Quinque Retrorsum
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
This is our golden year,--its golden day;
Its bridal memories soon must pass away;
Soon shall its dying music cease to ring,
And every year must loose some silver string,
Till the last trembling chords no longer thrill,--
Hands all at rest and hearts forever still.
The Dying Slave
© William Lisle Bowles
Faint-gazing on the burning orb of day,
When Afric's injured son expiring lay,
Reminiscence
© Padraic Colum
Recalling long ago. And she will hop
The inches of her crib, this narrow shop,
When you step in to be her customer:
A bird of little worth, a sparrow, say,
Whose crib's in such neglected passageway
That one's left wondering who brings crumbs to her.
The Garden Of Death
© Lord Alfred Douglas
There is an isle in an unfurrowed sea
That I wot of, whereon the whole year round
Thebais - Book Two
© Pablius Papinius Statius
Now Joves Command fulfilld, the Son of May
Quits the black Shades and slowly mounts to Day.
Song. "Where dost thou bide"
© Amelia Opie
WHERE dost thou bide, blessed soul of my love!
Is ether thy dwelling, O whisper me where!
Rapt in remembrance, while lonely I rove,
I gaze on bright clouds, and I fancy thee there.
St. Peter's Day
© John Keble
Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend;
In sharpest perils faithful proved,
Let his soul love Thee to the end.
The Higher Kinship
© William Wilfred Campbell
Life is too grim with anxious, eating care
To cherish what is best. Our souls are scarred
A Poets Eightieth Birthday
© Alfred Austin
``He dieth young whom the Gods love,'' was said
By Greek Menander; nor alone by One
The Season
© Ada Cambridge
And must I wear a silken life,
Hemmed in by city walls?
And must I give my garden up
For theatres and balls?
Black Messengers (Translation of Los Heraldos Negros)
© Cesar Vallejo
There are in life such hard blows . . . I don't know!
Blows seemingly from God's wrath; as if before them
the undertow of all our sufferings
is embedded in our souls . . . I don't know!
Joys of Spring
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
The climbing sun again was wakening the world
And laughing at the wreck of frigid winter's trade.
