Life poems
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Lines, Written In The Memory Of Elizabeth Smith
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Daughter of heav'n! if here, e'en here,
The wing of tow'ring thought was thine;
If, on this dim and mundane sphere,
Fair truth illum'd thy bright career,
With morning-star divine;
The Call Of The Woods
© Edgar Albert Guest
I must get out on the trails once more that wind through shadowy haunts and
cool,
Away from the presence of wall and door, and see myself in a crystal pool;
I must get out with the silent things, where neither laughter nor hate is
heard,
Where malice never the humblest stings and no one is hurt by a spoken word.
The Fruit Of Love's Desire.
© Robert Crawford
The fruit of love's desire is sweet
For any man and maid to eat.
However ripened in time's air,
No other can with it compare.
Written In The Isle Of Thanet
© Robert Bloomfield
The bard, who paints from rural plains,
Must oft himself the void supply
Of damsels pure and artless swains,
Of innocence and industry:
Changeling
© Margaret Widdemer
And while this that bears your seeming
Goes among us dumb and dreaming
You dance on eternally
With the Dark Queen's chivalry!
The Mother Faith
© Edgar Albert Guest
Little mother, life's adventure calls your boy away,
Yet he will return to you on some brighter day;
Dry your tears and cease to sigh, keep your mother smile,
Brave and strong he will come back in a little while.
Today I Will Go Once Again
© Velimir Khlebnikov
Today I will go once again
Into life, into haggling, into market,
And lead the army of my songs
To duel against the market tide.
The Rivulet
© William Cullen Bryant
This little rill, that from the springs
Of yonder grove its current brings,
Plays on the slope a while, and then
Goes prattling into groves again,
Isabel
© Charles Stuart Calverley
Now o'er the landscape crowd the deepening shades,
And the shut lily cradles not the bee;
The red deer couches in the forest glades,
And faint the echoes of the slumberous sea:
Georgic 4
© Publius Vergilius Maro
Of air-born honey, gift of heaven, I now
Take up the tale. Upon this theme no less
Remarks On The Bright And Dark Side
© Benjamin Tompson
But may a Rural Pen try to set forth
Such a Great Fathers Ancient Grace and worth
The Gift Of The Terek
© Mikhail Lermontov
Through the rocks in wildest courses
Seethes the Terek grim of mood,
Tempest howling its bewailing,
Pearled with foam its tearful flood.
On Entering Switzerland
© William Lisle Bowles
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day
I journey on, yet pensive turn to view
The Last Suttee
© Rudyard Kipling
Udai Chand lay sick to death
In his hold by Gungra hill.
All night we heard the death-gongs ring
For the soul of the dying Rajpoot King,
All night beat up from the women's wing
A cry that we could not still.
Miserie
© George Herbert
Lord, let the Angels praise thy name.
Man is a foolish thing, a foolish thing,
Folly and Sinne play all his game.
His house still burns; and yet he still doth sing,
Man is but grasse,
He knows it, fill the glasse.
When Friends Drop In
© Edgar Albert Guest
It may be I'm old-fashioned, but the times I like the best
Are not the splendid parties with the women gaily dressed,
And the music tuned for dancing and the laughter of the throng,
With a paid comedian's antics or a hired musician's song,
But the quiet times of friendship, with the chuckles and the grin,
And the circle at the fireside when a few good friends drop in.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 04
© Torquato Tasso
XLIII
The Pagan ill defenced with sword or targe,
The Renewal
© Robert Laurence Binyon
No more of sorrow, the world's old distress,
Nor war of thronging spirits numberless,
Immortal ardours in brief days confined,
No more the languid fever of mankind
Human Life
© Matthew Arnold
What mortal, when he saw,
Life's voyage done, his heavenly Friend,
Could ever yet dare tell him fearlessly:
"I have kept uninfringed my nature's law ;
The inly-written chart thou gavest me,
To guide me, I have steer'd by to the end"?
The Roman: A Dramatic Poem
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
SCENE I.
A Plain in Italy-an ancient Battle-field. Time, Evening.
Persons.-Vittorio Santo, a Missionary of Freedom. He has gone out, disguised as a Monk, to preach the Unity of Italy, the Overthrow of Austrian Domination, and the Restoration of a great Roman Republic.--A number of Youths and Maidens, singing as they dance. 'The Monk' is musing.
Enter Dancers.
