Life poems
/ page 396 of 844 /341. SongMy 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.
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.
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
306. Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790
© Robert Burns
Now, for my friends and brethrens sakes,
And for my dear-lovd Land o Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o Hell
Oer a wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!
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.
235. SongThe 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.
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?
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!
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:
164. SongA Bottle and Friend
© Robert Burns
HERES 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?
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!
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!
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
234. A Mothers Lament for her Sons Death
© Robert Burns
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And piercd my darlings heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.
The End Of The World
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Even the silent lips and comforting calm face
I had no more; I took my place
386. The Rights of WomenSpoken by Miss Fontenelle
© Robert Burns
Now, thank our stars! those Gothic times are fled;
Now, well-bred menand you are all well-bred
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.
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;
447. SongA red, red Rose
© Robert Burns
O MY Luves like a red, red rose,
Thats newly sprung in June:
O my Luves like the melodie,
Thats sweetly playd in tune.
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 neer a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.
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.