Life poems
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Paraphrase Of Psalm: CXLVIII
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
PRAISE ye the Lord! on every height
Songs to his glory raise!
Ye angel-hosts, ye stars of light,
Join in immortal praise!
$2.50
© Kenneth Fearing
But that dashing, dauntless, delphic, diehard, diabolic cracker likes his fiction turned with a certain elegance and wit; and that anti-anti-anti-slum-congestion clublady prefers romance;
Search through the mothballs, comb the lavender and lace;
Were her desires and struggles futile or did an innate fineness bring him at last to a prouder, richer peace in a world gone somehow mad?
Beatrice
© Sara Teasdale
Send out the singers - let the room be still;
They have not eased my pain nor brought me sleep.
A Death in the Desert
© Robert Browning
Then Xanthus said a prayer, but still he slept:
It is the Xanthus that escaped to Rome,
Was burned, and could not write the chronicle.
Spelt from Sibyl’s Leaves
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Earnest, earthless, equal, attuneable, ' vaulty, voluminous, . . . stupendous
Evening strains to be time’s vást, ' womb-of-all, home-of-all, hearse-of-all night.
Epitaph On H. Walmsley, Esq.,
© William Lisle Bowles
IN ALVERSTOKE CHURCH, HANTS.
Oh! they shall ne'er forget thee, they who knew
Experience
© Edith Wharton
But otherwise Fate wills it, for, behold,
Our gathered strength of individual pain,
When Time’s long alchemy hath made it gold,
Dies with us—hoarded all these years in vain,
Since those that might be heir to it the mould
Renew, and coin themselves new griefs again.
The Waste Land
© Thomas Stearns Eliot
“My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.
“What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”
The Bubble
© William Allingham
See the pretty planet!
Floating sphere!
Faintest breeze will fan it
Far or near;
Shore Line
© Carl Rakosi
Barrel-chested military water
rushes in a mass
to break the shore earth
into stonekind.
The House of Life: 66. The Heart of the Night
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
O Lord of work and peace! O Lord of life!
O Lord, the awful Lord of will! though late,
Even yet renew this soul with duteous breath:
That when the peace is garner'd in from strife,
The work retriev'd, the will regenerate,
This soul may see thy face, O Lord of death!
Pyrography
© John Ashbery
Out here on Cottage Grove it matters. The galloping
Wind balks at its shadow. The carriages
A Year and a Day
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Slow days have passed that make a year,
Slow hours that make a day,
Since I could take my first dear love
And kiss him the old way;
Yet the green leaves touch me on the cheek,
Dear Christ, this month of May.
The Lotos-eaters
© Alfred Tennyson
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land,
"This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
Nel Mezzo Del Cammin
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Whisper it not that late in years
Sorrow shall fade and the world be brighter,
The Eve Of The Bridal
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YES! it has come; the strange, o'ermastering hour,
When buoyant hopes, and tender, tremulous fears
Sway the full heart with a divided power,
The flush of sunshine, and the touch of tears!
Hypocrite Women
© Denise Levertov
Hypocrite women, how seldom we speak
of our own doubts, while dubiously
we mother man in his doubt!
A Happy Childhood
© William Matthews
No one keeps a secret so well as a child
Victor Hugo
My mother stands at the screen door, laughing.
“Out out damn Spot,” she commands our silly dog.
I wonder what this means. I rise into adult air
The Ready Artists
© Edgar Albert Guest
The green is in the meadow and the blue is in the sky,
And all of Nature's artists have their colors handy by;
With a few days bright with sunshine and a few nights free from frost
They will start to splash their colors quite regardless of the cost.
There's an artist waiting ready at each bleak and dismal spot
To paint the flashing tulip or the meek forget-me-not.
The Search for Lost Lives
© James Tate
I was chasing this blue butterfly down
the road when a car came by and clipped me.
