Life poems

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The Old Place

© Blanche Edith Baughan

SO the last days come at last, the close of my fifteen year

The end of the hope, an the struggles, an messes Ive put in here.

The Sundew

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

A LITTLE marsh-plant, yellow green,
And pricked at lip with tender red.
Tread close, and either way you tread
Some faint black water jets between
Lest you should bruise the curious head.

If

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

IF life were but a dream, my Love,

And death the waking time;

Krishna Learning To Walk

© Sant Surdas

Hands stretched out hesitantly,

A foot on the ground unstably,

A Requiem

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

Neobule, being tired,
Far too tired to laugh or weep,
From the hours, rosy and gray,
Hid her golden face away.
Neobule, fain of sleep,
Slept at last as she desired!

Bud

© Edgar Albert Guest

Who is it lives to the full every minute,

Gets all the joy and the fun that is in it?

I Ain't Dead Yet

© Edgar Albert Guest

Time was I used to worry and I'd sit around an' sigh,

And think with every ache I got that I was goin' to die,

I had grown weary of him; of his breath
And hands and features I was sick to death.
Each day I heard the same dull voice and tread;
I did not hate him: but I wished him dead.
And he must with his blank face fill my life--
Then my brain blackened; and I snatched a knife.

The Children's Heaven

© George MacDonald

The infant lies in blessed ease

Upon his mother's breast;

Imogen

© Sir Henry Newbolt

(A Lady of Tender Age)

Ladies, where were your bright eyes glancing,

The Lighthouse

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Yes, Desolation, on her viewless wing,

Even now, perhaps, is speeding with the blast

Musings

All who have toiled for Art, who've won or lost,
Sat equal priests at her high Pentecost;
Only the chrism and sacrament of flame,
Anointing all, inspired not all the same.

Theology in Extremis: Or a soliloquy that may have been delivered in India, June, 1857

Oft in the pleasant summer years,
Reading the tales of days bygone,
I have mused on the story of human tears,
All that man unto man had done,
Massacre, torture, and black despair;
Reading it all in my easy-chair.

The Open Door

© Alfred Noyes

O Mystery of life,
That, after all our strife,
Defeats, mistakes,
Just as, at last, we see
The road to victory,
The tired heart breaks.

Fare Thee Well

Fare thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well:
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.

Hyperion, A Vision: Attempted Reconstruction Of The Poem

© John Keats

"With such remorseless speed still come new woes,
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn! sleep on: me thoughtless, why should I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn! sleep on, while at thy feet I weep."