Life poems
/ page 728 of 844 /
Modern Love XII: Not Solely That the Future
© George Meredith
Not solely that the Future she destroys,
And the fair life which in the distance lies
For all men, beckoning out from dim rich skies:
Nor that the passing hour's supporting joys
Modern Love X: But Where Began the Change
© George Meredith
But where began the change; and what's my crime?
The wretch condemned, who has not been arraigned,
Chafes at his sentence. Shall I, unsustained,
Drag on Love's nerveless body thro' all time?
Modern Love IV: All Other Joys of Life
© George Meredith
All other joys of life he strove to warm,
And magnify, and catch them to his lip:
But they had suffered shipwreck with the ship,
And gazed upon him sallow from the storm.
Meditation under Stars
© George Meredith
What links are ours with orbs that are
So resolutely far:
The solitary asks, and they
Give radiance as from a shield:
Love's Grave
© George Meredith
MARK where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like,
Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back'd wave!
Here is a fitting spot to dig Love's grave;
Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike,
Love in the Valley
© George Meredith
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward,
Couched with her arms behind her golden head,
Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly,
Lies my young love sleeping in the shade.
Juggling Jerry
© George Meredith
Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes:
By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage.
It's nigh my last above the daisies:
My next leaf'll be man's blank page.
Dirge in Woods
© George Meredith
A wind sways the pines,
And below
Not a breath of wild air;
Still as the mosses that glow
Upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa
© Richard Crashaw
O THOU undaunted daughter of desires!
By all thy dower of lights and fires;
By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;
By all thy lives and deaths of love;
A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint Teresa
© Richard Crashaw
Farewell then, all the world, adieu!
Teresa is no more for you.
Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys,
Never till now esteemed toys!
The Recommendation
© Richard Crashaw
These houres, and that which hovers ore my End,
Into thy hands, and hart, lord, I commend.Take Both to Thine Account, that I and mine
In that Hour, and in these, may be all thine.That as I dedicate my devoutest Breath
To make a kind of Life for my lords Death,So from his living, and life-giving Death,
Wishes To His (Supposed) Mistress
© Richard Crashaw
Whoe'er she be,
That not impossible she
That shall command my heart and me;
Divine Epigrams: To our Lord, upon the Water Made Wine
© Richard Crashaw
Thou water turn'st to wine, fair friend of life,
Thy foe, to cross the sweet arts of thy reign,
Distills from thence the tears of wrath and strife,
And so turns wine to water back again.
A Song
© Richard Crashaw
Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace
Sends up my soul to seek thy face.
Thy blessed eyes breed such desire,
I dy in loves delicious Fire.
The Flaming Heart
© Richard Crashaw
O heart, the equal poise of love's both parts,
Big alike with wounds and darts,
Live in these conquering leaves; live all the same,
And walk through all tongues one triumphant flame;
To the Name above every Name, the Name of Jesus
© Richard Crashaw
I sing the Name which None can say
But toucht with An interiour Ray:
The Name of our New Peace; our Good:
Our Blisse: and Supernaturall Blood:
An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife
© Richard Crashaw
TO these whom death again did wed
This grave 's the second marriage-bed.
For though the hand of Fate could force
'Twixt soul and body a divorce,
Ode On The Insurrection In Candia
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Had I words of fire,
Whose words are weak as snow;
Were my heart a lyre
Whence all its love might flow
In the mighty modulations of desire,
In the notes wherewith man's passion worships woe;
The Song Of The Standard
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Maiden most beautiful, mother most bountiful, lady of lands,
Queen and republican, crowned of the centuries whose years are thy sands,
See for thy sake what we bring to thee, Italy, here in our hands.
The Litany Of Nations
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
CHORUSIf with voice of words or prayers thy sons may reach thee,
We thy latter sons, the men thine after-birth,
We the children of thy grey-grown age, O Earth,
O our mother everlasting, we beseech thee,
