Life poems
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The Debt Unpayable
© Francis William Bourdillon
What have I given,
Bold sailor on the sea?
In earth or heaven,
That you should die for me?
The Waiting Life
© Dorothea Mackellar
Since it befell, with work and strife
I had not time to live my life
I turned away from it until
Work should be done and strife be still.
"Choose You This Day Whom Ye Will Serve"
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
YES, tyrants, you hate us, and fear while you hate
The self-ruling, chain-breaking, throne-shaking State!
The night-birds dread morning,--your instinct is true,--
The day-star of Freedom brings midnight for you!
The Crying Of The Earth
© Arthur Symons
I hear the melancholy crying of birds in the night
Over the long brown wrinkled fields that lie
As far along as the starless roots of the sky;
I hear them crying from the water out of sight,
The Writer's Hand
© David Gascoyne
What is your want, perpetual invalid
Whose fist is always beating on my breast's
Old Years And New
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old years and new years, all blended into one,
The best of what there is to be, the best of what is gone--
Let's bury all the failures in the dim and dusty past
And keep the smiles of friendship and laughter to the last.
The Nightingale : A Conversation Poem
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!
437. SongThine am I, my faithful Fair
© Robert Burns
THINE am I, my faithful Fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Evry pulse along my veins,
Evry roving fancy.
351. Second Epistle to Robert Graham, Esq., of Fintry
© Robert Burns
Criticsappalld, I venture on the name;
Those cut-throat bandits in the paths of fame:
Bloody dissectors, worse than ten Monroes;
He hacks to teach, they mangle to expose:
The Bards Who Lived at Manly
© Henry Lawson
The camp of high-class spielers,
Who sneered in summer dress,
157. Prologue, spoken by Mr. Woods at Edinburgh
© Robert Burns
WHEN, by a generous Publics kind acclaim,
That dearest meed is grantedhonest fame;
Waen here your favour is the actors lot,
Nor even the man in private life forgot;
The Men Who Man Our Batteries
© William Watson
The men who man our batteries,
The men who serve our guns,
201. Birthday Ode for 31st December, 1787
© Robert Burns
AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams,
Whom kingdoms on this day should hail;
An inmate in the casual shed,
On transient pitys bounty fed,
The Pauper
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
It dawned a morn to make a heart despair,
East was the wind and chill the April air.
319. Lament for James, Earl of Glencairn
© Robert Burns
THE WIND blew hollow frae the hills,
By fits the suns departing beam
Lookd on the fading yellow woods,
That wavd oer Lugars winding stream:
3. SongI dreamd I lay
© Robert Burns
I DREAMD I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam;
Listning to the wild birds singing,
By a falling crystal stream:
403. The Soldiers Return: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
WHEN wild wars deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning;
