Life poems
/ page 739 of 844 /A Silent Wood
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
O silent wood, I enter thee
With a heart so full of misery
For all the voices from the trees
And the ferns that cling about my knees.
The Wreck of the Indian Chief
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas on the 8th of January 1881,
That a terrific gale along the English Channel ran,
And spread death and disaster in its train,
Whereby the "Indian Chief" vessel was tossed on the raging main.
The Whispers Of Time
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
What does time whisper, youth gay and light,
While thinning thy locks, silken and bright,
While paling thy soft cheeks roseate dye,
Dimming the light of thy flashing eye,
Stealing thy bloom and freshness away
Is he not hinting at deathdecay?
The Wreck of the Columbine
© William Topaz McGonagall
Kind Christians, all pay attention to me,
And Miss Mouat's sufferings I'll relate to ye;
While on board the Columbine, on the merciless sea,
Tossing about in the darkness of night in the storm helplessly.
Gnomic Verses
© Robert Creeley
Down the road Up the hill Into the house
Over the wall Under the bed After the fact
By the way Out of the woods Behind the times
In front of the door Between the lines Along the path
The Wreck of the Barque Lynton
© William Topaz McGonagall
A sad tale of the sea, I will unfold,
About Mrs Lingard, that Heroine bold;
Who struggled hard in the midst of the hurricane wild,
To save herself from being drowned, and her darling child.
Lucy Hooper
© John Greenleaf Whittier
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead,
That all of thee we loved and cherished
Death of the Old Sea King
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
'Twas a fearful night--the tempest raved
With loud and wrathful pride,
The storm-king harnessed his lightning steeds,
And rode on the raging tide.
Cuchulain's Fight With The Sea
© William Butler Yeats
A man came slowly from the setting sun,
To Emer, raddling raiment in her dun,
And said, "I am that swineherd whom you bid
Go watch the road between the wood and tide,
But now I have no need to watch it more."
The Tragic Death of the Rev. A.H. Mackonochie
© William Topaz McGonagall
Friends of humanity, of high and low degree,
I pray ye all come listen to me;
And truly I will relate to ye,
The tragic fate of the Rev. Alexander Heriot Mackonochie.
The Sunderland Calamity
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the town of Sunderland, and in the year of 1883,
That about 200 children were launch'd into eternity
While witnessing an entertainment in Victoria Hall,
While they, poor little innocents, to God for help did call.
The Sprig of Moss
© William Topaz McGonagall
There lived in Munich a poor, weakly youth,
But for the exact date, I cannot vouch for the truth,
And of seven of a family he was the elder,
Who was named, by his parents, Alois Senefelder.
The Sorrows of the Blind
© William Topaz McGonagall
Pity the sorrows of the poor blind,
For they can but little comfort find;
As they walk along the street,
They know not where to put their feet.
The Voyage Of Columbus
© Samuel Rogers
Unclasp me, Stranger; and unfold,
With trembling care my leaves of gold,
Rich in gothic portraiture--
If yet, alas, a leaf endure.
The Relief of Mafeking
© William Topaz McGonagall
Success to Colonel Baden-Powell and his praises loudly sing,
For being so brave in relieving Mafeking,
With his gallant little band of eight hundred men,
They made the Boers fly from Mafeking like sheep escaping from a pen.
The Odour. 2 Cor. II.
© George Herbert
How sweetly doth My Master sound! My Master!
As amber-greese leaves a rich scent
Unto the taster:
So do these words a sweet content,
In orientall fragrancie, My Master.
Lines To Helen,
© Helen Maria Williams
She lives--that first pulsation of the heart
Is life!--receive, dear babe, thy destin'd part;
Yet frail thy being as the op'ning rose
When chill the rude wind blows.
The Desolate City
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
DARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.
Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?
Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city.
A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.
The Unknown
© Edgar Lee Masters
Ye aspiring ones, listen to the story of the unknown
Who lies here with no stone to mark the place.