Life poems
/ page 693 of 844 /Here I Love You
© Pablo Neruda
Here I love you.
In the dark pines the wind disentangles itself.
The moon glows like phosphorous on the vagrant waters.
Days, all one kind, go chasing each other.
Pansy: Song-Words.
© Arthur Henry Adams
IN a crooked angle
Of a garden bower,
'Neath a weedy tangle
Grew a modest flower;
The Hill
© Edgar Lee Masters
Where are Elmer, Herman, Bert, Tom, and Charley,
The weak of will, the strong of arm, the clown, the boozer, the fighter?
All, all, are sleeping on the hill.
Fletcher McGee
© Edgar Lee Masters
She took my strength by the minutes,
She took my life by hours,
She drained me like a fevered moon
That saps the spinning world.
A Comrade
© Augusta Davies Webster
"I AM Joy," she said; but her voice was low,
Too low for laughter;
Memory
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
I nursed it in my bosom while it lived,
I hid it in my heart when it was dead;
In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved
Alone and nothing said.
The Suicides Grave (From The German)
© George Borrow
The evening shadows fall upon the grave
On which I sit; it is no common heap,
Below its turf are laid the bones of one,
Who, sick of life and misery, did quench
The vital spark which in his bosom burnd.
Many Soldiers
© Edgar Lee Masters
The idea danced before us as a flag;
The sound of martial music;
The thrill of carrying a gun;
Advancement in the world on coming home;
Rita Matlock Gruenberg
© Edgar Lee Masters
Grandmother! You who sang to green valleys,
And passed to a sweet repose at ninety-six,
Here is your little Rita at last
Grown old, grown forty-nine;
Richard Bone
© Edgar Lee Masters
When I first came to Spoon River
I did not know whether what they told me
Was true or false.
They would bring me an epitaph
Petit, The Poet
© Edgar Lee Masters
Seeds in a dry pod, tick, tick, tick,
Tick, tick, tick, like mites in a quarrel--
Faint iambics that the full breeze wakens--
But the pine tree makes a symphony thereof.
Grand Is The Leisure Of The Earth
© Jean Ingelow
Grand is the leisure of the earth;
She gives her happy myriads birth,
Herbert Marshall
© Edgar Lee Masters
All your sorrow, Louise, and hatred of me
Sprang from your delusion that it was wantonness
Of spirit and contempt of your soul's rights
Which made me turn to Annabelle and forsake you.
The Rowfant Catalogue
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Friends had he many, neighbours next to none.
Rowfant and Crabbet lay few fields apart.
Each Sunday saw him here, his church drill done,
Duly stroll in to talk of books and art,
Doc Hill
© Edgar Lee Masters
I went up and down the streets
Here and there by day and night,
Through all hours of the night caring for the poor who were sick.
Do you know why?
The Widow Of Crescentius : Part I.
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
'Midst Tivoli's luxuriant glades,
Bright-foaming falls, and olive shades,
Benjamin Fraser
© Edgar Lee Masters
Their spirits beat upon mine
Like the wings of a thousand butterflies.
I closed my eyes and felt their spirits vibrating.
I closed my eyes, yet I knew when their lashes
Silence
© Edgar Lee Masters
I have known the silence of the stars and of the sea,
And the silence of the city when it pauses,
And the silence of a man and a maid,
And the silence of the sick
Wendell P. Bloyd
© Edgar Lee Masters
They first charged me with disorderly conduct,
There being no statute on blasphemy.
Later they locked me up as insane
Where I was beaten to death by a Catholic guard.