Life poems

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341. Song—My Bonie Bell

© Robert Burns

THE SMILING Spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly Winter grimly flies;
Now crystal clear are the falling waters,
And bonie blue are the sunny skies.

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El Nudo (The Knot)

© Delmira Agustini

  Su idilio fue una larga sonrisa a cuatro labios…
En el regazo cálido de rubia primavera
Amáronse talmente que entre sus dedos sabios
Palpitó la divina forma de la Quimera.

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Where They Lived by Marge Saiser: American Life in Poetry #104 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2

© Ted Kooser

At some time many of us will have to make a last visit to a house where aged parents lived out their days. Here Marge Saiser beautifully compresses one such farewell.

Where They Lived

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306. Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790

© Robert Burns

Now, for my friends’ and brethren’s sakes,
And for my dear-lov’d Land o’ Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o’ Hell
O’er a’ wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!

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The Complaint: or Night Thoughts (excerpt)

© Edward Young

By Nature's law, what may be, may be now;

  There's no prerogative in human hours.

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235. Song—The Fall of the Leaf

© Robert Burns

THE LAZY mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark-winding rill;
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear!
As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year.

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To One In A Hostile Camp

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

How dare I, Juliet, in love's kindness be
Your counsellor for these mad days of war,
I, a sworn Montagu, to liberty
Bound by all oaths which men least lightly swear?

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19. A Prayer in the Prospect of Death

© Robert Burns

O THOU unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

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To Alison Cunningham, From Her Boy

© Robert Louis Stevenson

For the long nights you lay awake
And watched for my unworthy sake:
For your most comfortable hand
That led me through the uneven land:
For all the story-books you read:
For all the pains you comforted:

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164. Song—A Bottle and Friend

© Robert Burns

HERE’S a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Wha kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be o’ care, man?

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The Crown Of Life

© Edith Nesbit

THE days, the doubts, the dreams of pain
Are over, not to come again,
And from the menace of the night
Has dawned the day-star of delight:
My baby lies against me pressed--
Thus, Mother of God, are mothers blessed!

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352. The Song of Death

© Robert Burns

FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun;
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Our race of existence is run!

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My Mother’s Pillow by Cecilia Woloch : American Life in Poetry #228 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laur

© Ted Kooser

I don’t often mention literary forms, but of this lovely poem by Cecilia Woloch I want to suggest that the form, a villanelle, which uses a pattern of repetition, adds to the enchantment I feel in reading it. It has a kind of layering, like memory itself. Woloch lives and teaches in southern California.

My Mother’s Pillow

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234. A Mother’s Lament for her Son’s Death

© Robert Burns

FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And pierc’d my darling’s heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.

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The End Of The World

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Even the silent lips and comforting calm face

I had no more; I took my place

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386. The Rights of Women—Spoken by Miss Fontenelle

© Robert Burns

Now, thank our stars! those Gothic times are fled;
Now, well-bred men—and you are all well-bred—
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.

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75. Halloween

© Robert Burns

UPON that night, when fairies light
On Cassilis Downans 2 dance,
Or owre the lays, in splendid blaze,
On sprightly coursers prance;

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447. Song—A red, red Rose

© Robert Burns

O MY Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

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25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad

© Robert Burns

MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne’er a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.

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On Australian Hills

© Ada Cambridge

 Oh, to be there to-night!
To see that rose of sunset flame and fade
 On ghostly mountain height,
The soft dusk gathering each leaf and blade
 From the departing light,
Each tree-fern feather of the wildwood glade.