Life poems
/ page 291 of 844 /
Ode To Death
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Oh, Misery's cure! who e'er in pale dismay
Has watch'd the angel form they could not save,
And seen their dearest blessing torn away,
May well the terrors of thy triumph brave,
Nor pause in fearful dread before the opening grave!
The House Of Life
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
Chorus from Mariam
© Elizabeth Carew
TIS not enough for one that is a wife
To keep her spotless from an act of ill;
But from suspicion she should free her life,
And bare herself of power as well as will,
Tis not so glorious for her to be free,
As by her proper self restraind to be.
Childhood Alone Is Glad
© Charles Heavysege
Childhood alone is glad. With it time flees
In constant mimes and bright festivities.
Fauconshawe
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
To fetch clear water out of the spring
The little maid Margaret ran;
From the stream to the castle's western wing
It was but a bowshot span;
On the sedgy brink where the osiers cling
Lay a dead man, pallid and wan.
Spring Song
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
A BLUE-BELL springs upon the ledge,
A lark sits singing in the hedge;
Donna Mi Prega
© Ezra Pound
Safe may'st thou go my canzon whither thee pleaseth
Thou art so fair attired that every man and each
Shall praise thy speech
So we have sense or glow with reason's fire,
To stand with other
hast thou no desire.
Contrition
© George MacDonald
Out of the gulf into the glory,
Father, my soul cries out to be lifted.
Dark is the woof of my dismal story,
Thorough thy sun-warp stormily drifted!-
Out of the gulf into the glory,
Lift me, and save my story.
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Fourth
© William Lisle Bowles
O'er my poor ANNA'S lowly grave
No dirge shall sound, no knell shall ring;
But angels, as the high pines wave,
Their half-heard "Miserere" sing.
At Last
© John Greenleaf Whittier
When on my day of life the night is falling,
And, in the winds from unsunned spaces blown,
I hear far voices out of darkness calling
My feet to paths unknown,
Unofficial
© Edith Nesbit
ONE morning, my heart can remember,
I sat dreaming there,
In the 'governor's' chair
In the office. The month was November,
And the weather a subject for prayer.
To The Virgin Mary
© Mary Hannay Foott
Oh wisely was it that He chose,
Who the unwritten future reads,
To teach the after-world, through thee,
What cherishers Messiah needs.
As The Sparks Fly Upward
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The little babe I held upon my knee
Had not yet banished from his sleeping eyes
Two
© Madison Julius Cawein
With her soft face half turned to me,
Like an arrested moonbeam, she
Stood in the cirque of that deep tree.
The Author's Early Life
© Julia A Moore
I will write a sketch of my early life,
It will be of childhood day,
At Her Window
© Henry Kendall
There, where the plopping of the guttered rain
Sounds like a heavy footstep in the dark,
Where every shadow thrown by flickering light
Seems like her husband halting at the door,
I say a woman sits, and waits, and sits,
Then trims her fire, and comes to wait again.
Within and Without: Part V: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Julian.
A heart that knows what thou canst never know,
Fair angel, blesseth thee, and saith, farewell.
