Life poems
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When I Peruse The Conquer'd Fame
© Walt Whitman
WHEN I peruse the conquer'd fame of heroes, and the victories of
mighty generals, I do not envy the generals,
The Offering Of The New Law, The One Oblation Once Offered
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Once I thought to sit so high
In the Palace of the sky;
Now, I thank God for His Grace,
If I may fill the lowest place.
The Memory Of Martha
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
OUT in de night a sad bird moans,
An', oh, but hit's moughty lonely;
Prometheus Unbound
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
First Voice.
But never bowed our snowy crest
As at the voice of thine unrest.
A Career
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
He lived a silent life alone,
And laid him down when it was done;
And at his head was placed a stone
On which was carved a name unknown!
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part IV
© Madison Julius Cawein
_They who die young are blest.--
Should we not envy such?
They are Earth's happiest,
God-loved and favored much!--
They who die young are blest._
Give Me A Single Day
© Edgar Albert Guest
GIVE me a single day, I ask no more
From dawn to dusk, ah, that is time enough
Vers De Société
© Philip Larkin
My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
To come and waste their time and ours: perhaps
You'd care to join us? In a pig's arse, friend.
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed.
And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I'm afraid-
Paradise Regain'd : Book II.
© John Milton
Meanwhile the new-baptized, who yet remained
At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen
The Wreck of the Steamer 'London', while on her way to Australia
© William Topaz McGonagall
Then the captain cried, Lower down the small boats,
And see if either of them sinks or floats;
Then the small boats were launched on the stormy wave,
And each one tried hard his life to save
From a merciless watery grave.
The Poets Of The Tomb
© Henry Lawson
The world has had enough of bards who wish that they were dead,
'Tis time the people passed a law to knock 'em on the head,
For 'twould be lovely if their friends could grant the rest they crave -
Those bards of `tears' and `vanished hopes', those poets of the grave.
They say that life's an awful thing, and full of care and gloom,
They talk of peace and restfulness connected with the tomb.
Enter Patient
© William Ernest Henley
The morning mists still haunt the stony street;
The northern summer air is shrill and cold;
