Life poems
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Sonnet XXI. The Pines And The Sea.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
BEYOND the low marsh-meadows and the beach,
Seen through the hoary trunks of windy pines,
The long blue level of the ocean shines.
The distant surf, with hoarse, complaining speech,
Ode To The Spirit Of The Earth In Autumn
© George Meredith
The crimson-footed nymph is panting up the glade,
With the wine-jar at her arm-pit, and the drunken ivy-braid
Round her forehead, breasts, and thighs: starts a Satyr, and they
speed:
Hear the crushing of the leaves: hear the cracking of the bough!
And the whistling of the bramble, the piping of the weed!
The Black Virgin
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
One in thy thousand statues we salute thee
On all thy thousand thrones acclaim and claim
A Hymn
© Helen Maria Williams
While thee I seek, protecting Power!
Be my vain wishes still'd;
And may this consecrated hour
With better hopes be fill'd.
A Wish
© Edgar Albert Guest
I'd like to be a boy again, a care-free prince of joy again,
I'd like to tread the hills and dales the way I used to do;
Bid McCrae
© Alice Guerin Crist
The church was wrapped in darkness save for the alter-light,
And save where near the marble rail six tapers glimmered bright
Oer waxen heavy-scented flowers and coffin plated deep,
Where the good wife, Mary Halloran lay in her last long sleep.
Perdita
© Jean Ingelow
I go beyond the commandment.'
So be it. Then mine be the blame,
The loss, the lack, the yearning, till life's last sand be run,-
I go beyond the commandment, yet honour stands fast with her claim,
And what I have rued I shall rue; for what I have done-I have done.
The Party
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DEY had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
Was I dah? You bet! I neveh in my life see sich a sight;
Appeal To Nature Of The Solitary Heart
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DEAR mother, take me to thy breast!
I have no other place of rest
In all this weary world of men:
Ah! fold me in thy love again,
Sweet mother; clasp me to thy breast!
Blind Sorrow
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
One bitter time of mourning, I remember,
When day, and night, my sad heart did complain,
My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December,
And all its pleasures, were but whited pain.
Trafalgar Day
© George Meredith
He leads: we hear our Seaman's call
In the roll of battles won;
For he is Britain's Admiral
Till setting of her sun.
A Retrospect
© Frances Anne Kemble
Life wanes, and the bright sunlight of our youth
Sets o'er the mountain-tops, where once Hope stood.
The Progress Of A Divine: Satire
© Richard Savage
All priests are not the same, be understood!
Priests are, like other folks, some bad, some good.
What's vice or virtue, sure admits no doubt;
Then, clergy, with church mission, or without;
When good, or bad, annex we to your name,
The greater honour, or the greater shame.
I Vex Me Not With Brooding On The Years
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I vex me not with brooding on the years
That were ere I drew breath; why should I then
Disenchantment Of Death
© Madison Julius Cawein
Hush! She is dead! Tread gently as the light
Foots dim the weary room. Thou shalt behold.
Look:--In death's ermine pomp of awful white,
Pale passion of pulseless slumber virgin cold:
Bold, beautiful youth proud as heroic Might--
Death! and how death hath made it vastly old.
Youth And Manhood
© Henry Timrod
Another year! a short one, if it flow
Like that just past,
And I shall stand - if years can make me so -
A man at last.
