Life poems
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The First-Born
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Never did music sink into my soul
So âsilver sweet,â as when thy first weak wail
An Epistle To Dr. Moore
© Helen Maria Williams
Whether dispensing hope, and ease
To the pale victim of disease,
Or in the social crowd you sit,
And charm the group with sense and wit,
Moore's partial ear will not disdain
Attention to my artless strain.
Ballad Of The Press-Gang At Shihao Village
© Du Fu
One evening I found lodging in a village where
A press-gang stole by night to seize my aging host,
The Merryman and His Maid
© William Schwenck Gilbert
[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
The Martyrdom Of St. Christina, By Vincenzo Catena, In The Church Of Santa Maria Mater Domini, At Ve
© Richard Monckton Milnes
ST. CHRISTINA.
(KNEELING.)
I knew, I knew, it would be so,
That, in this long--expected hour,
Preparations For Victory
© Edmund Blunden
My soul, dread not the pestilence that hags
The valley; flinch not you, my body young.
In Oblivion
© Peter McArthur
COME, friend, there's going to be a merry meeting
After the play. Our masks we'll throw aside,
The Worlds Exile
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Well, I will tell you, kind adviser,
Why thus I ever roam
In distant lands, nor wish to guide
My footsteps to the fair hill--side
Where stands my sacred home.
The Wind Of Spring
© Madison Julius Cawein
The wind that breathes of columbines
And celandines that crowd the rocks;
That shakes the balsam of the pines
With laughter from his airy locks,
Stops at my city door and knocks.
A Portrait.
© Arthur Henry Adams
HER glance is equable, serene;
She looks at life with level brow;
She strides through circumstance a queen!
To compromise she cannot bow
Dreams
© Sara Teasdale
I gave my life to another lover,
I gave my love, and all, and all-
But over a dream the past will hover,
Out of a dream the past will call.
The One I Think of Now by Wesley McNair: American Life in Poetry #100 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
Here the Maine poet, Wesley McNair, offers us a vivid description of a man who has lived beyond himself. I'd guess you won't easily forget this sad old man in his apron with his tray of cheese.
The One I Think of Now
Song #4.
© Robert Crawford
They have been here and had this light
Who in their graves are lying,
And e'en the youngest life to-night
Is gradually dying.
To A Solitary FirTree
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Fir, that on this moor austere,
Without kin or neighbour near,
Utterest now bleak winter's moan
As if its vext soul were thine own!
A Spring Song
© Mathilde Blind
Dark sod pierced by flames of flowers,
Dead wood freshly quickening,
Bright skies dusked with sudden showers,
Lit by rainbows on the wing.
The Princess (part 5)
© Alfred Tennyson
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'
The Horn Of Egremont Castle
© William Wordsworth
ERE the Brothers through the gateway
Issued forth with old and young,
To the Horn Sir Eustace pointed
Which for ages there had hung.
Einstein
© Archibald MacLeish
Standing between the sun and moon preserves
A certain secrecy. Or seems to keep
Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia
© Giacomo Leopardi
What doest thou in heaven, O moon?
Say, silent moon, what doest thou?
'Where Art Thou Come?'
© Francis Thompson
'Friend, whereto art thou come?' Thus Verity;
Of each that to the world's sad Olivet
