Life poems
/ page 337 of 844 /
Love After Sorrow
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Behold, this hour I love, as in the glory of morn.
I too, the accursèd one, whom griefs pursue
Like phantoms through a land of deaths forlorn,
Have felt my heart leap up with courage new.
The Drowned Alive
© Charles Harpur
But what are these down in its bed
That trail so long and look so red,
Moving as in conscious sport?
Are they weeds of curious sort?
But Ill drive to them and see
Into all their mystery.
The golden journey
© William Vaughn Moody
All day he drowses by the sail
With dreams of her, and all night long
The Miracle
© Virna Sheard
Up from the templed city of the Jews,
The road ran straight and white
To Jericho, the City of the Palms,
The City of Delight.
To Mrs. J.S. Blackie
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Dear Friend, once, in a dream, I, looking o'er
The Past, saw the Four Seasons slow advance
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Ah, Paris, Paris! What an echo rings
Still in those syllables of vain delight!
What voice of what dead pleasures on what wings
Of Maenad laughters pulsing through the night!
Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,
Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,
Elegy On Newstead Abbey
© George Gordon Byron
No mail-clad serfs, obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band:
The Fight Worth While
© Edgar Albert Guest
fight worth while on this good old earth
Isn't the fight for a hoard of gold I
The Splendour And The Curse Of Song
© George Essex Evans
Methought the unknown God we seek in vain
Grew weary of the evil He had wrought
Eclogue
© John Donne
ALLOPHANES FINDING IDIOS IN THE COUNTRY IN
CHRISTMAS TIME, REPREHENDS HIS ABSENCE
FROM COURT, AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL
OF SOMERSET ; IDIOS GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF
HIS PURPOSE THEREIN, AND OF HIS ACTIONS
THERE.
The Wish.
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Should some great angel say to me tomorrow,
"Thou must re-tread thy pathway from the start,
A Last Word
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold,
To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust
Find end of labour, where's rest for the old,
Freedom to all from love and fear and lust.
Twine our torn hands! O pray the earth enfold
Our life-sick hearts and turn them into dust.
Hymn For A Sick Girl
© George MacDonald
Father, in the dark I lay,
Thirsting for the light,
Helpless, but for hope alway
In thy father-might.
The Old Song
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
When I was a young lad of happy sixteen
There came to my window the Cushla-mo chree,
The Song Of Hiawatha XXII: Hiawatha's Departure
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O'er the water floating, flying,
Something in the hazy distance,
Something in the mists of morning,
Loomed and lifted from the water,
Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
Phrenology
© William Schwenck Gilbert
"COME, collar this bad man -
Around the throat he knotted me
Till I to choke began -
In point of fact, garotted me!"
Son Davie! Son Davie!
© Andrew Lang
"What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
Son Davie! Son Davie!
What bluid's that on thy coat lap?
And the truth come tell to me, O."
