Life poems
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On The Dunes
© Sara Teasdale
IF there is any life when death is over,
These tawny beaches will know much of me,
I shall come back, as constant and as changeful
As the unchanging, many-colored sea.
Requiem
© Anna Akhmatova
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected -
I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
[1961]
To The Life Eternal
© George MacDonald
Thou art my thought, my heart, my being's fortune,
The search for thee my growth's first conscious date;
For nought, for everything, I thee importune;
Thou art my all, my origin and fate!
The Wedding Day
© Alaric Alexander Watts
The last! the last! the last!
Oh, by that little word,
How many thoughts are stirred! ~ CAROLINE SOUTHEY.
The Fan : A Poem. Book III.
© John Gay
Learn hence, ye wives; bid vain suspicion cease,
Lose not in sulien discontent your peace.
For when fierce love to jealousy ferments,
A thousand doubts and fears the soul invents,
No more the days in pleasing converse flow,
And nights no more their soft endearments know.
Julia, or the Convent of St. Claire
© Amelia Opie
Stranger, that massy, mouldering pile,
Whose ivied ruins load the ground,
Reechoed once to pious strains
By holy sisters breathed around.
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part III.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stood
Square shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill,
"He has picked grapes in the sun. Oh it seems"
© Lesbia Harford
He has picked grapes in the sun. Oh it seems
Like a fairy tale,
Like a tale of dreams.
"He in his slender youth, with vines, with sun,
The Rites Of Darkness
© Kenneth Patchen
The sleds of the children
Move down the right slope.
To the left, hazed in the tumbling air,
A thousand lights smudge
Within the branches of the old forest,
Like colored moons in a well of milk.
The Factories
© Margaret Widdemer
I have shut my little sister in from life and light
(For a rose, for a ribbon, for a wreath across my hair),
God Speaks To Each Of Us
© Rainer Maria Rilke
God speaks to each of us before we are,
Before he's formed us then, in cloudy speech,
But only then, he speaks these words to each
And silently walks with us from the dark:
Being Dad On Christmas Eve
© Edgar Albert Guest
They've hung their stockings up with care,
And I am in my old arm chair,
Givers
© Margaret Widdemer
MY lover kissed my lips, and his arms went round my body,
But you were kissing the lips of my soul in our own wild garden
Where the rose-colored moon shone down
Through a sevenfold garland of rainbow stars
And a river of clear golden music rippled and thrilled
In our own place.
Children Of Love
© Harold Monro
The holy boy
Went from his mother out in the cool of the day
Over the sun-parched fields
And in among the olives shining green and shining grey.
Chanting The Square Deific
© Walt Whitman
But as the seasons, and gravitation-and as all the appointed days,
that forgive not,
I dispense from this side judgments inexorable, without the least
remorse.
In after Time
© Walter Savage Landor
NO, my own love of other years!
No, it must never be.
Much rests with you that yet endears,
Alas! but what with me?
Charleston At The Close Of 1863
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHAT! still does the mother of treason uprear
Her crest 'gainst the furies that darken her sea,
Unquelled by mistrust, and unblanched by a fear,
Unbowed her proud head, and unbending her knee,
Calm, steadfast and free!
Sonnet X
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AS one who strays from out some shadowy glade,
Fronting a lurid noontide, stern, yet bright,
O'er mart and tower, and castellated height,
Shrinks slowly backward, dazed and half afraid--
