Life poems
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The Mirror
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
Where is all the beauty that hath been?
Where the bloom?
Dust on boundless wind? Grass dropt into fire?
Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen
© William Butler Yeats
MANY ingenious lovely things are gone
That seemed sheer miracle to the multitude,
Alone, Looking For Blossoms Along The River
© Du Fu
The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable,
And nowhere to complain - I've gone half crazy.
I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine
Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed.
To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of That Noble Pair, Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Morison
© Benjamin Jonson
The Turn
Brave infant of Saguntum, clear
The Dole Of Jarl Thorkell
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE land was pale with famine
And racked with fever-pain;
The frozen fiords were fishless,
The earth withheld her grain.
A Monumental Column : A Funeral Elegy
© John Webster
To The Right Honourable Sir Robert Carr, Viscount Rochester, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, and One Of His Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council.
The greatest of the kingly race is gone,
Impressions Of Francois-Marie Arouet (De Voltaire)
© Ezra Pound
The parks with the swards all over dew,
And grass going glassy with the light on it,
The green stretches where love is and the grapes
Hang in yellow-white and dark clusters ready for pressing.
And if now we can't fit with our time of life
There is not much but its evil left us.
Green Tea by Dale Ritterbusch: American Life in Poetry #83 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Poems of simple pleasure, poems of quiet celebration, well, they aren't anything like those poems we were asked to wrestle with in high school, our teachers insisting that we get a headlock on THE MEANING. This one by Dale Ritterbusch of Wisconsin is more my cup of tea.
The Sorcerer: Act II
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Scene-Exterior of Sir Marmaduke's mansion by moonlight. All the
peasantry are discovered asleep on the ground, as at the end
of Act I.
The Wheel
© Vinda Karandikar
Someone is about to come but doesn't. Is about
to turn on the stairs but doesn't.
Making a Fist
© Naomi Shihab Nye
For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,
I felt the life sliding out of me,
a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.
I was seven, I lay in the car
watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.
My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.
Idylls of the King: The Passing of Arthur
© Alfred Tennyson
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
First made and latest left of all the knights,
Told, when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his age, to those
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.
Lines Suggested By Ode XXIX. Book I. Of Horace
© John Kenyon
To ANTONIO PANIZZI, ESQ. AS THE WORTHY OCCASION, AND TO THE REV. CHRISTOPHER ERLE, AS THE PROMPT THROWER-OUT OF THE QUOTATION WHENCE IT HAS SPRUNG, THIS MERE TRIFLE IS INSCRIBED.
Sonnet LII.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
FROM THE NOVEL OF CELESTINA.
THE PILGRIM.
FAULTERING and sad the unhappy pilgrim roves,
Who, on the eve of bleak December's night,
A Display of Mackerel
© Mark Doty
They lie in parallel rows,
on ice, head to tail,
each a foot of luminosity
A Pastoral Ballad. In Four Parts
© William Shenstone
Arbusta humilesque myrciae. ~ Virg.
Explanation.
Groves and lovely shrubs.
