Life poems
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Down In A Shaded Garden
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Down in a shaded garden
I laid upon earth my head:
The deep trees murmured, darkly fresh,
Over my bed;
I Have Become Very Hairy
© Yehuda Amichai
I have become very hairy all over my body.
I'm afraid they'll start hunting me because of my fur.My multicolored shirt has no meaning of love --
it looks like an air photo of a railway station.At night my body is open and awake under the blanket,
like eyes under the blindfold of someone to be shot.Restless I shall wander about;
Try To Remember Some Details
© Yehuda Amichai
Try to remember some details. Remember the clothing
of the one you love
so that on the day of loss you'll be able to say: last seen
wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat.
Mermaid
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Hey when I was a lad in fishing town an old man said to me
You can spend your life your jolly life just sailing on the sea
A Man In His Life
© Yehuda Amichai
A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.
William Forster
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The years are many since his hand
Was laid upon my head,
Too weak and young to understand
The serious words he said.
My Childhood's Home
© Caroline Norton
I HAVE tasted each varied pleasure,
And drunk of the cup of delight;
Once A Great Love
© Yehuda Amichai
Once a great love cut my life in two.
The first part goes on twisting
at some other place like a snake cut in two.
To The Painter Of An Ill-drawn Picture of Cleone
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Sooner I'd praise a Cloud which Light beguiles,
Than thy rash Hand which robs this Face of Smiles;
And does that sweet and pleasing Air control,
Which to us paints the fair CLEONE's Soul.
To Mr. F. Now Earl of W
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
No sooner, FLAVIO, was you gone,
But, your Injunction thought upon,
ARDELIA took the Pen;
Designing to perform the Task,
Her FLAVIO did so kindly ask,
Ere he returned agen.
To Death
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
O King of Terrors, whose unbounded Sway
All that have Life, must certainly Obey;
The King, the Priest, the Prophet, all are Thine,
Nor wou'd ev'n God (in Flesh) thy Stroke decline.
Sweet Torture - With original language version
© Alfonsina Storni
My melancholy was gold dust in your hands;
On your long hands I scattered my life;
My sweetnesses remained clutched in your hands;
Now I am a vial of perfume, emptied
The Unequal Fetters
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Cou'd we stop the time that's flying
Or recall itt when 'tis past
Put far off the day of Dying
Or make Youth for ever last
To Love wou'd then be worth our cost.
The Tree
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
'Tis just that some return be made;
Sure some return is due from me
To thy cool shadows, and to thee.
The Exequy
© Henry King
Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint,
Instead of dirges, this complaint;
And for sweet flow'rs to crown thy hearse,
From thy griev'd friend, whom thou might'st see
Quite melted into tears for thee.
The Poor Man's Lamb
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Where art thou Nathan? where's that Spirit now,
Giv'n to brave Vice, tho' on a Prince's Brow?
In what low Cave, or on what Desert Coast,
Now Virtue wants it, is thy Presence lost?
The Search After Happiness. A Pastoral Drama
© Hannah More
"To rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the female breast." ~Thomson.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 1 - 250 (Whinfield Translation)
© Omar Khayyám
At dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,
"Arise, my brethren of the revelers' guild,
That I may fill our measure full of wine,
Or e'er the measure of our days be filled."
The Lyon And The Gnat
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
To the still Covert of a Wood
About the prime of Day,
A Lyon, satiated with Food,
With stately Pace, and sullen Mood,
Now took his lazy way.
