Life poems
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At Euroma
© Henry Kendall
They built his mound of the rough, red ground,
By the dip of a desert dell,
Astrophel And Stella-First Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast o'ercharged to music lendeth?
To you, to you, all song of praise is due;
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
Venetian Life
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
The meaning of somber and barren
Venetian life is clear to me:
Now she looks into a decrepit blue glass
With a cool smile.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book VI - Part 01 - Proem
© Lucretius
And since I've taught thee that the world's great vaults
Are mortal and that sky is fashioned
Of frame e'en born in time, and whatsoe'er
Therein go on and must perforce go on
Leave Me, O Love Which Reachest But To Dust
© Sir Philip Sidney
Leave me, O love which reachest but to dust,
And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;
Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:
Whatever fades but fading pleasure brings.
Nughtingale And Cuckoo
© Alfred Austin
Yes, nightingale and cuckoo! it was meet
That you should come together; for ye twain
Scented Herbage Of My Breast
© Walt Whitman
SCENTED herbage of my breast,
Leaves from you I yield, I write, to be perused best afterwards,
Lincoln
© John Gould Fletcher
Like a gaunt, scraggly pine
Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills;
And patiently, through dull years of bitter silence,
Untended and uncared for, starts to grow.
Sun and Shadow
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
As I look from the isle, o'er its billows of green,
To the billows of foam-crested blue,
A Nameless Grave
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"A soldier of the Union mustered out,"
Is the inscription on an unknown grave
A Poet's Epitaph
© Madison Julius Cawein
LIFE was unkind to him;
All things went wrong:
Fortune assigned to him
Merely a song.
Dedication To Wilfred And Alice Meynell
© Francis Thompson
If the rose in meek duty
May dedicate humbly
Parable Of Faith
© Louise Gluck
He is not
duplicitous; he has tried to be
true to the moment; is there another way of being
true to the self?
Matins
© Louise Gluck
You want to know how I spend my time?
I walk the front lawn, pretending
to be weeding. You ought to know
I'm never weeding, on my knees, pulling
A Reading Of Life--With The Persuader
© George Meredith
So is it sung in any space
She fills, with laugh at shallow laws
Forbidding love's devised embrace,
The music Beauty from it draws.
The Untrustworthy Speaker
© Louise Gluck
I know myself; I've learned to hear like a psychiatrist.
When I speak passionately,
That's when I'm least to be trusted.
The Pond
© Louise Gluck
Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.
Complaint Of Body, The Ass, Against His Rider, The Soul
© Stephen Vincent Benet
BODY
Well, here we go!
Circe's Grief
© Louise Gluck
In the end, I made myself
Known to your wife as
A god would, in her own house, in
Ithaca, a voice
