Life poems
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The Gift
© Sara Teasdale
What can I give you, my lord, my lover,
You who have given the world to me,
Showed me the light and the joy that cover
The wild sweet earth and the restless sea?
Gratefully And Affectionately Inscribed To Joel Chandler Harris
© James Whitcomb Riley
_You who to the rounded prime_
_Of a life of toil and stress_,
Joy Of My Life While Left Me Here!
© Henry Vaughan
Joy of my life while left me here!
And still my love!
Morel Mushrooms by Jane Whitledge: American Life in Poetry #102 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
© Ted Kooser
Those of us who have hunted morel mushrooms in the early spring have hunted indeed! The morel is among nature's most elusive species. Here Jane Whitledge of Minnesota captures the morel's mysterious ways.
Morel Mushrooms
Softly they come
thumbing up from
firm ground
A Reed Shaken In The Wind
© Madison Julius Cawein
To say to hope,--Take all from me,
And grant me naught:
The rose, the song, the melody,
The word, the thought:
Then all my life bid me be slave,--
Is all I crave.
A Childs Treasures
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Thou art home at last, my darling one,
Flushed and tired with thy play,
The Cyclamen
© Arlo Bates
OVER the plains where Persian hosts
Laid down their lives for glory
Flutter the cyclamens, like ghosts
That witness to their story.
Oh, fair! Oh, white! Oh, pure as snow!
On countless graves how sweet they grow!
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
'Tis time I stepped from Horeb to the plain.
Mountains, farewell. I need a heavier air.
Youth's memories are not good for souls in pain,
And each new age has its own meed of care.
Humming-Bird
© Padraic Colum
UP from the navel of the world,
Where Cuzco has her founts of fire,
The passer of the Gulf he comes.
Winter Cares
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
"Of course, the fire consumes a lot of kindling wood,
When we warm up the house or cook a boiling pot.
Just think what kind of food we'd have to eat each day,
If there were no wood to burn and no helpful fire.
We'd have naught but sodden, sour swill to eat, like swine.
Mona Lisa
© Edith Wharton
Yon strange blue city crowns a scarped steep
No mortal foot hath bloodlessly essayed:
Aurora Leigh: Book Fifth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
"A flower, a flower," exclaimed
My German student,-his own eyes full-blown
Bent on her. He was twenty, certainly.
My Midnight Meditation
© Henry King
Ill busi'd man! why should'st thou take such care
To lengthen out thy life's short calendar?
When ev'ry spectacle thou lookst upon
Presents and acts thy execution.
Each drooping season and each flower doth cry,
"Fool! as I fade and wither, thou must die.
Thanksgiving
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Let us give thanks to God above,
Thanks for expressions of His love,
Seen in the book of nature, grand
Taught by His love on every hand.
Upper Austria
© John Kenyon
And he had comment, full and clear,
The fruit of many a travelled year;
But more, by meditation brought
From inner depths of silent thought;
Or fresh from fountain, never dry,
Of undisturbed humanity.
The Pig and the Rooster
© Clement Clarke Moore
Thus ended the strife, as does many a fight;
Each thought his foe wrong, and his own notions right.
Pig turn'd, with a grunt, to his mire anew,
And He-biddy, laughing, cried -- cock-a-doodle-doo.
