Life poems
/ page 386 of 844 /
The Death of the Flowers
© William Cullen Bryant
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread;
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day.
October
© William Cullen Bryant
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
The Living Lost
© William Cullen Bryant
Weep, ye who sorrow for the dead,
Thus breaking hearts their pain relieve;
And graceful are the tears ye shed,
And honoured ye who grieve.
Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood
© William Cullen Bryant
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
Faith in God
© Henry Kendall
HAVE faith in God. For whosoever lists
To calm conviction in these days of strife,
Will learn that in this steadfast stand exists
The scholarship severe of human life.
After a Tempest
© William Cullen Bryant
The day had been a day of wind and storm;--
The wind was laid, the storm was overpast,--
And stooping from the zenith, bright and warm
Shone the great sun on the wide earth at last.
Lines Left Upon The Seat Of A Yew-Tree,
© William Wordsworth
which stands near the lake of Esthwaite, on a desolate part of the shore, commanding a beautiful prospect.
NAY, Traveller! rest. This lonely Yew-tree stands
Far from all human dwelling: what if here
No sparkling rivulet spread the verdant herb?
In The Waste Hour
© William Ernest Henley
Nay, there were we,
Her five strong sons!
To her Death came--the great Deliverer came! -
As equal comes to equal, throne to throne.
She was a mother of men.
Life And death
© William Baylebridge
This world is driven by two contending powers-
Love, that coerceth Heaven to dwell with dust,
The 9th Satire Of Book I. Of Horace : The Description Of An Impertinent. Adapted To The Present Time
© William Cowper
Sauntering along the street one day,
On trifles musing by the way,
227. Verses on Friars Carse Hermitage (First Version)
© Robert Burns
THOU whom chance may hither lead,
Be thou clad in russet weed,
Be thou deckt in silken stole,
Grave these maxims on thy soul.
388. Extempore on some commemorations of Thomson
© Robert Burns
DOST thou not rise, indignant shade,
And smile wi spurning scorn,
When they wha wad hae starved thy life,
Thy senseless turf adorn?
From Torrismond - In A Garden By Moonlight
© Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Veronica. COME then, a song; a winding gentle song,
To lead me into sleep. Let it be low
October 21, 1905
© George Meredith
The hundred years have passed, and he
Whose name appeased a nation's fears,
The Old Pioneers
© Frank Dalby Davison
h, these old friends of ours! Sixty years back,
Bearded and booted, they followed the track,
Abd-El-Kader At Toulon Or, The Caged Hawk
© William Makepeace Thackeray
No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert-life for thee;
No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free:
Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with spurning of thy chain,
Shatter against thy cage the wing thou ne'er may'st spread again.
517. SongO wat ye whas in yon town
© Robert Burns
ChorusO wat ye whas in yon town,
Ye see the eenin sun upon,
The dearest maids in yon town,
That eening sun is shining on.
232. SongThe Day Returns
© Robert Burns
THE DAY returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet:
Tho winter wild in tempest toild,
Neer summer-sun was half sae sweet.
90. Epistle to James Smith
© Robert Burns
Whilst Ibut I shall haud me there,
Wi you Ill scarce gang ony where
Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair,
But quat my sang,
Content wi you to mak a pair.
Whareer I gang.
