Life poems
/ page 369 of 844 /The Forest Pine
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A hundred autumns fallen in fire
To dust and mould
Have faded from their perished gold
To throne thee higher,
The Wind And The Whirlwind
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I have a thing to say. But how to say it?
I have a cause to plead. But to what ears?
How shall I move a world by lamentation,
A world which heeded not a Nation's tears?
An Epistle To Joseph Hill, Esq.
© William Cowper
Dear Joseph,-- five and twenty years ago--
Alas! how time escapes -- 'tis even so!--
Above The Storm
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE winds of the winter have breathed their dirges
Far over the wood and the leaf-strown plain;
They have passed, forlorn, by the mountain verges
Down to the shores of the moaning main;
Fairy Sketch
© William Lisle Bowles
SCENE--NETLEY ABBEY.
There was a morrice on the moonlight plain,
Pygmalion And The Statue
© Ovid
PYGMALION loathing their lascivious Life,
Abhorred all Womankind, but most a Wife:
On Mr. Gay
© Alexander Pope
Of Manners gentle, of Affections mild;
In Wit, a Man; Simplicity, a Child:
Coquette [Among The Family Portraits.]
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
Therefore, sweet flesh and blood, I trust
That, ere ye passed to senseless dust,
Your beauty played a worthier part--
The love-rôle of the loyal heart.
. . . . .
An Experiment In Translation
© Alfred Austin
Blest husbandmen! if they but knew their bliss!
For whom, from war remote, fair-minded Earth
Guns At The Front
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Man, simple and brave, easily confiding,
Giving his all, glad of the sun's sweetness,
Heeding little of pitiful incompleteness,
Mending life with laughter and cheerful chiding,
To Imagination
© Emily Jane Brontë
When weary with the long day's care,
And earthly change from pain to pain,
And lost, and ready to despair,
Thy kind voice calls me back again:
Oh, my true friend! I am not lone,
While then canst speak with such a tone!
Faith And Works. A Tale.
© Hannah More
Good Dan and Jane were man and wife,
And lived a loving kind of life.
Charles Augustus Fortescue, Who always Did what was Right, and so accumulated an Immense Fortune.
© Hilaire Belloc
The nicest child I ever knew
Was Charles Augustus Fortescue.
He never lost his cap, or tore
His stockings or his pinafore:
In eating Bread he made no Crumbs,
He was extremely fond of sums,
To Louise
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
OH, the poets may sing of their Lady Irenes,
And may rave in their rhymes about wonderful queens;
Over the Hills and Far Away
© William Ernest Henley
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
On desolate sea and lonely sand,
The Grave Of Howard
© William Lisle Bowles
Spirit of Death! whose outstretched pennons dread
Wave o'er the world beneath their shadow spread;
Lines. "'Tis all in vain, it may not last"
© Frances Anne Kemble
'Tis all in vain, it may not last,
The sickly sunlight dies away,