Life poems

 / page 327 of 844 /
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Inspiration

© Samuel Johnson

LIFE of Ages, richly poured,
Love of God, unspent and free,
Flowing in the Prophet’s word
And the People’s liberty!

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What Makes An Artist

© Edgar Albert Guest

We got to talking art one day, discussing in a general way
How some can match with brush and paint the glory of a tree,
And some in stone can catch the things of which the dreamy poet sings,
While others seem to have no way to tell the joys they see.

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The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First

© Mark Akenside

With what attractive charms this goodly frame

Of nature touches the consenting hearts

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A Revolutionary Hero

© James Russell Lowell

Old Joe is gone, who saw hot Percy goad

His slow artillery up the Concord road,

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Baby Feet

© Edgar Albert Guest

Tell me, what is half so sweet

As a baby's tiny feet,

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Expectation

© Edgar Albert Guest

Most folks, as I've noticed, in pleasure an' strife,

Are always expecting too much out of life.

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Sonnet 61: Oft With True Sighs

© Sir Philip Sidney

Oft with true sighs, oft with uncalled tears,
Now with slow words, now with dumb eloquence
I Stella's eyes assail, invade her ears;
But this at last is her sweet breath'd defense:

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The Moon Flower

© Lala Fisher

I know a valley-  through its solitude

A brown road winds towards a mountain crest;

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Ode

© James Russell Lowell

I

In the old days of awe and keen-eyed wonder,

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In Memoriam

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yet not of these I muse
In this ancestral place,
But of a kindred face
That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.

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After

© Robert Browning

Take the cloak from his face, and at first

 Let the corpse do its worst!

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The Bill of the Ages

© Henry Lawson

He has rowed to a wreck, when the lifeboat failed, with Jim in a crazy boat;
He has given his lifebelt many a time, and sunk that another might float.
He has ‘stood ’em off’ while others escaped, when the niggers rushed from the hill,
And rescue parties who came too late have found what was left of Bill.

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The Neighborly Man

© Edgar Albert Guest

Some are eager to be famous, some are striving

  to be great,

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At Parting

© Edith Nesbit

Go, since you must, but, Dearest, know
That, Honour having bid you go,
Your honour, if your life be spent,
Shall have a costly monument.

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The Woman of Whom Satan Had Bound

© George MacDonald

For years eighteen she, patient soul,
Her eyes had graveward sent;
Her earthly life was lapt in dole,
She was so bowed and bent.

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The Angel

© Virna Sheard

Down the white ward with slow, unswerving tread
  He came ere break of day--
A cowl was drawn about his down-bent head,
  His misty robes were grey.

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The Magdalen At The Madonna’s Shrine

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

O Madonna, pure and holy,

  From sin’s dark stain ever free,

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Ultima Ratio Regum

© Stephen Spender

The guns spell money's ultimate reason
In letters of lead on the spring hillside.
But the boy lying dead under the olive trees
Was too young and too silly
To have been notable to their important eye.
He was a better target for a kiss.

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The Judgement of Hercules

© William Shenstone

Wrapp'd in a pleased suspense, the youth survey'd
The various charms of each attractive maid:
Alternate each he view'd, and each admired,
And found, alternate, varying flames inspired:
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran,
When she, who first approach'd him, first began:-

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Labor Is Prayer

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

LABORARE est orare:
We, black-visaged sons of toil,
From the coal-mine and the anvil
And the delving of the soil,--