Life poems
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Clerk Saunders
© Anonymous
Whan bells war rung, an mass was sung, A wat a' man to bed were gone,Clark Sanders came to Margret's window, With mony a sad sigh and groan.
Barbara Allan
© Anonymous
It was in and about the Martinmas time, When the green leaves were a falling,That Sir John Græme, in the West Country, Fell in love with Barbara Allan.
Ay Me, Ay Me, I Sigh the Scythe A-field
© Anonymous
Ay me, ay me, I sigh to see the scythe a-field; Down goeth the grass, soon wrought to wither'd hay:Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that beauty needs must yield, And princes pass, as grass doth fade away.
The Old Timer
© Anderson Robert Thompson
Far, far across the rolling swale, I've watched the bison pass;I've seen the lonely prairie trail Wind thro' the rustling grass;I've felt the cool winds sweep the plain Where Nature's hand is free;But now they break o'er leagues of grain, Like ripples o'er the sea
Dead Broke
© Anderson James
Dead broke! dead broke!--aft said in joke,Sae truth is sometimes spoken;But to the man "wha bears the gree,"'Tis onything but jokin'
The Campaign
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign
An Account of the Greatest English Poets (complete)
© Joseph Addison
Since, dearest Harry, you will needs requestA short account of all the muse possess'd;That, down from Chaucer's days to Dryden's times,Have spent their noble rage in British rhymes;Without more preface, wrote in formal length,To speak the undertaker's want of strength,I'll try to make their sev'ral beauties known,And show their verses' worth, though not my own
Refreshment
© Adams Mary Electa
Hast thou had hours when life seemed empty all,And waste the garden thou wert set to till,Like tide-swept sands that only white and stillUnanswering lay beneath the heaven's gray pall?No ripening fruit to offer at His call,Discouragement hath waited on the will;And did some human voice, that bro't a thrillOut of the silence, on thy hearing fall:"I could not rest till I had come to seeAnd tell you how your life hath blessed mine own"?Burst a cool spring; the heart, refreshed and free,Went on its way under a smiling sun
By the Marshes of Tantramar
© Adams Mary Electa
Evening is falling with a star:I wander lonely and afarDown by the marshes of Tantramar.
The Wants of Man
© Adams John Quincy
Man wants but little here below,Nor wants that little long. -- Goldsmith's Hermit
To the Sun-Dial
© Adams John Quincy
Under the Window of the Hall of the House ofRepresentatives of the United StatesThou silent herald of Time's silent flight! Say, could'st thou speak, what warning voice were thine? Shade, who canst only show how others shine!Dark, sullen witness of resplendent lightIn day's broad glare, and when the moontide bright Of laughing fortune sheds the ray divine, Thy ready favors cheer us--but declineThe clouds of morning and the gloom of night
A Psalm of Freudian Life
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Tell me not in mormonful numbers "Life is but an empty dream!"To a student of the slumbers Things are never what they seem.
While I Wrote This a Battering Ram of Knives Excavated Old Wounds -- The Poem Attacking Stalin
© Aaron Rafi
There is something deep inside me, I don’t know whoplaced it there
Voronezh
© Aaron Rafi
The darkness drops its anchor on our lungs and wefeel the weight of each breath
"When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam"
© William Cullen Bryant
When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam,
And the woodlands awaking burst into a hymn,
And the glow of the sky blazes back from the stream,
How the bright ones of heaven in the brightness grow dim.
Martins Tide
© William Barnes
Come, bring a log o' cleft wood, Jack,
An' fling en on ageän the back,
O God! Thou art my God alone;
© James Montgomery
O God! Thou art my God alone;
Early to Thee my soul shall cry;
A pilgrim in a land unknown,
A thirsty land whose springs are dry.
Love Elegy, to Henry
© Amelia Opie
Then thou hast learnt the secret of my soul,
Officious Friendship has its trust betrayed;
No more I need the bursting sigh control,
Nor summon pride my struggling soul to aid.
