Life poems
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The Sensitive Plant
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
PART 1.
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 82
© Alfred Tennyson
For this alone on Death I wreak
The wrath that garners in my heart;
He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.
Prologue For A Modern Painter
© Arthur Symons
Hear the hymn of the body of man:
This is how the world began;
In these tangles of mighty flesh
The stuff of the earth is moulded afresh.
Bereft.
© Arthur Henry Adams
FOR nine drear nights my darling has been dead;
And ah, dear God! I cannot dream of her!
Now I shall see her always lying white
A frozen flower beneath a snow of flowers,
Songs of the Voices of Birds: Introduction
© Jean Ingelow
CHILD AND BOATMAN.
“Martin, I wonder who makes all the songs.”
The House Of Falling Leaves
© William Stanley Braithwaite
If change and fate and hapless circumstance
May baffle and perplex the moaning sea,
And day and night in alternate advance
Still hold the primal Reasoning in fee,
Cannot my Grief be strong enough to chance
My voice across the tide I cannot see?
Of The Three Seekers
© William Morris
Whither away to seek good cheer?
Ah me! said the third, that my love were anear!
Were the world as little as it is wide,
In a happy house should ye abide.
Were the world as kind as it is hard,
Ye should behold a fair reward.
Whatever Is--Is Best
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I know as my life grows older,
And mine eyes have clearer sight,
A Niello
© Madison Julius Cawein
It is not early spring and yet
Of bloodroot blooms along the stream,
And blotted banks of violet,
My heart will dream.
Letters To The Roman Friend
© Joseph Brodsky
From Martial
Now is windy and the waves are cresting over
Roosevelt
© John Jay Chapman
[Lines read at the Harvard Club, New York, on February 9, 1919]
LIFE seems belittled when a great man dies;
How John Quit The Farm
© James Whitcomb Riley
Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John,
Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come on--
And then, I want to say to you, we _needed_ he'p about,
As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned out!
Daisies
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Cover, white snowflakes, the spot where they lie,
Scarce living the length of a winter's short noon.
Oh! cover them whitely that no one may find
The grave of my daisies that blossomed too soon.
White Nassau
© Bliss William Carman
She's ringed with surf and coral, she's crowned with sun and palm;
She has the old-world leisure, the regal tropic calm;
The trade winds fan her forehead; in everlasting June
She reigns from deep verandas above her blue lagoon.
Lady, Your Words Do Spite Me
© John Wilbye
Lady, your words do spite me,
Yet your sweet lips so soft,
Lover's Quarrels
© Edith Nesbit
JOIN hands, my dear, clasp long and close and fast,
Even this present we shall soon call past,
And lay among the unforgotten days,
Not the less loved because they could not last.
"Dank fens of cedar..."
© Frederick Goddard Tuckerman
Dank fens of cedar, hemlock-branches gray
With tress and trail of mosses wringing-wet;
Song of the Guitar.
© Bai Juyi
In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem - six hundred and twelve characters.
I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,
Dedication
© Alfred Tennyson
Dedication
These to His Memory-since he held them dear,
Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself-I dedicate,
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears-
These Idylls.
