Life poems
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My Only Title
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
My only title to her grace
Is her sad, too silent face;
All my right to call her mine
The twin tears that on it shine,
Jest 'Fore Christmas
© Eugene Field
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
Aurora Leigh: Book Three
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
"To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee," said the Lord, "to go
Where thou wouldst not." He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downward.
To D--
© George Gordon Byron
In thee I fondly hoped to clasp
A friend whom death alone could sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp,
Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.
Despair
© Madison Julius Cawein
Shut in with phantoms of life's hollow hopes,
And shadows of old sins satiety slew,
The Princes' Quest - Part the Third
© William Watson
"O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea,
Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands,
Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me.
The Farmer's Ingle (english version)
© Robert Fergusson
Whan gloming grey out o'er the welkin keeks,
Whan Batie ca's his owsen to the byre,
Sordello: Book the Second
© Robert Browning
What next? The curtains see
Dividing! She is there; and presently
He will be there-the proper You, at length-
In your own cherished dress of grace and strength:
Most like, the very Boniface!
Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
© Samuel Butler
Next him his Son and Heir Apparent
Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent;
Who first laid by the Parliament,
The only crutch on which he leant;
And then sunk underneath the State,
That rode him above horseman's weight.
The Dead Tribune
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The awful shadow of a great man's death
Falls on this land, so sad and dark before-
Hymn XX: Weary Souls, that Wander Wide
© Charles Wesley
Weary souls, that wander wide
From the central point of bliss,
Turn to Jesus crucified,
Fly to those dear wounds of his:
Sink into the purple flood;
Rise into the life of God!
The Clearer Self
© Archibald Lampman
Before me grew the human soul,
And after I am dead and gone,
Through grades of effort and control
The marvellous work shall still go on.
The Poet To Be Yet.
© Arthur Henry Adams
NOT he who sings smooth songs that soothe
Sweet opiates that lull asleep
The sorrow that would only weep;
There are some spirit-stains so deep
Flower-De-Luce: Killed At The Ford
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He is dead, the beautiful youth,
The heart of honor, the tongue of truth,
Under The Sheet
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
What a terrible night! Does the Night, I wonder-
The Night, with her black veil down to her feet
Sorrow And Joys
© George Meredith
Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise
As souls to the immortal skies,
And there look down like mothers' eyes.
The Kings Prophecie
© Joseph Hall
What Stoick could his steely brest containe
(If Zeno self, or who were made beside
Of tougher mold) from being torne in twaine
With the crosse Passions of this wondrous tide?
Grief at ELIZAES toomb, orecomne anone
With greater ioy at her succeeded throne?
Meetings
© Katharine Tynan
As up and down I fare by road and street
The mothers of our men-at-arms I meet
Who die for mine and me,
That we go safe and free,
Sit in the sun, sleep soft and find life sweet.
Back and Side go Bare
© William Stevenson
Back and side go bare, go bare,
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.
