Life poems
/ page 697 of 844 /The Masque Of Pandora
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.
Grey
© Archibald Thomas Strong
Lady of Sorrow! What though laughing blue,
Thy sister, mock mens anguish, and the sun
Self-Criticism In February
© Robinson Jeffers
The bay is not blue but sombre yellow
With wrack from the battered valley, it is speckled with violent
When Love Is Lost
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When love is lost, the day sets towards the night,
Albeit the morning sun may still be bright,
And not one cloud-ship sails across the sky.
Yet from the places where it used to lie
Gone is the lustrous glory of the light.
Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
LAST high star of the years whose thunder
Still mens listening remembrance hears,
Last light left of our fathers years,
Watched with honour and hailed with wonder
Thee too then have the years borne under,
Thou too then hast regained thy peers.
At Her Grave
© Alfred Austin
Lo, here among the rest you sleep,
As though no difference were
'Twixt them and you, more wide, more deep,
Than such as fondness loves to keep
Round each lone sepulchre.
At Times Spoony Sometimes
© Sukasah Syahdan
at times spoony sometimes
forky our concupiscence
to life is such
Mein Tag War Heiter
© Heinrich Heine
My day was happy, fortunate my night.
My People loved me when I struck the lyre
Turning Fifty
© Judith Wright
Having known war and peace
and loss and finding,
I drink my coffee and wait
for the sun to rise,
In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory
© William Butler Yeats
Now that we're almost settled in our house
I'll name the friends that cannot sup with us
Beside a fire of turf in th' ancient tower,
And having talked to some late hour
The Falcon
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Who would not be Sir Hubert, for his birth and bearing fine,
His rich sky-skirted woodlands, valleys flowing oil and wine;
To James T. Fields
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Well thought! who would not rather hear
The songs to Love and Friendship sung
Than those which move the stranger's tongue,
And feed his unselected ear?
The French Mariner
© Robert Bloomfield
An Old _French Mariner_ am I,
Whom Time hath render'd poor and gray;
Hear, conquering _Britons_, ere I die,
What anguish prompts me thus to say.
The Shopkeeper
© Sukasah Syahdan
the shopkeeper munched
on lifecrumbs after the last
customer's goodbye
The Wandering Jew's Soliloquy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Is it the Eternal Triune, is it He
Who dares arrest the wheels of destiny
And plunge me in the lowest Hell of Hells?
Will not the lightning's blast destroy my frame?
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 05 - Cerberus And Furies, And That Lack Of Light
© Lucretius
Tartarus, out-belching from his mouth the surge
Of horrible heat- the which are nowhere, nor
Monimia. An Ode
© John Logan
In weeds of sorrow wildly 'dight,
Alone beneath the gloom of night,
Monimia went to mourn;
She left a mother's fond alarms;
Ah! never to return!