Life poems

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The Solitary’s Wine

© Charles Baudelaire

A flirtatious woman’s singular gaze
as she slithers towards you, like the white rays
the vibrant moon throws on the trembling sea
where she wishes to bathe her casual beauty,

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If The Advertising Man Had Been Praed, Or Locker

© Franklin Pierce Adams


"C'est distingue," says Madame La Mode.
Subtly distinctive as a fabric fair;
Nor Keats nor Shelley in his loftiest ode
Could thrum the line to tell how it will wear.

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Rural Elegance, An Ode to the Late Duchess of Somerset

© William Shenstone

While orient skies restore the day,
And dew-drops catch the lucid ray;
Amid the sprightly scenes of morn
Will aught the Muse inspire?
Oh! peace to yonder clamorous horn
That drowns the sacred lyre!

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The Two Dreams

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

I WILL that if I say a heavy thing

Your tongues forgive me; seeing ye know that spring

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Beyond The Shadow

© Augusta Davies Webster

SOME quick kind tears, some easy sorrow,
And then 'tis past.
'Twas sad; yet sadness has its morrow;
Blue skies succeed skies overcast:
Why should grief last?

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King David

© Stephen Vincent Benet

David sang to his hook-nosed harp:
"The Lord God is a jealous God!
His violent vengeance is swift and sharp!
And the Lord is King above all gods!

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The Glen of Arrawatta

© Henry Kendall

A tale of Love and Death. And shall I say
A tale of love in death—for all the patient eyes
That gathered darkness, watching for a son
And brother, never dreaming of the fate—
The fearful fate he met alone, unknown,
Within the ruthless Australasian wastes?

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British Association, Notes Of The President's Address

© James Clerk Maxwell

In the very beginnings of science, the parsons, who managed things then,

Being handy with hammer and chisel, made gods in the likeness of men;

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The Conjunction Of Jupiter And Venus

© William Cullen Bryant

I would not always reason. The straight path

Wearies us with its never-varying lines,

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The Courtship Of Young John

© Alice Guerin Crist

But he little knew what a treasure he’d won.
What a wonderful life had just begun;
And how bright the sunshine that lay upon
The future pathway of ‘that young John’.

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Seeing the Eclipse in Maine by Robert Bly: American Life in Poetry #165 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea

© Ted Kooser

In “The Moose,â€? a poem much too long to print here, the late Elizabeth Bishop was able to show a community being created from a group of strangers on a bus who come in contact with a moose on the highway. They watch it together and become one. Here Robert Bly of Minnesota assembles a similar community, around an eclipse. Notice how the experience happens to “we,â€? the group, not just to “me,â€? the poet. Seeing the Eclipse in Maine

It started about noon. On top of Mount Batte,
We were all exclaiming. Someone had a cardboard
And a pin, and we all cried out when the sun
Appeared in tiny form on the notebook cover.

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The Currency Lass

© Roderic Quinn

THEY marshalled her lovers four and four,
A drum at their heads, in the days of old:
O, none could have guessed their hearts were sore;
They marched with such gayness in scarlet and gold.

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The Cyclops

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

SILENUS.
ULYSSES.
CHORUS OF SATYRS.
THE CYCLOPS.

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Bach in the DC Subway by David Lee Garrison : American Life in Poetry #239 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Lau

© Ted Kooser

It’s likely that if you found the original handwritten manuscript of T. S. Eliot’s groundbreaking poem, “The Waste Land,” you wouldn’t be able to trade it for a candy bar at the Quick Shop on your corner.  Here’s a poem by David Lee Garrison of Ohio about how unsuccessfully classical music fits into a subway. Bach in the DC Subway

As an experiment,

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Longfellow Dead

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

AY, it is well! Crush back your selfish tears;
For from the half-veiled face of earthly spring
Hath he not risen on heaven-aspiring wing
To reach the spring-tide of the eternal years?

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Before Execution.

© Robert Crawford

The sun is set, and all the stars are come,
Stars I shall no more see; the air is still,
And my life waits the ruin so near now.
A little space, and I shall have done here.

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How Can I Keep From Singing?

© Robert Wadsworth Lowry

My life flows on in endless song;

Above earth’s lamentation

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The Soul That Loves God Finds Him Everywhere

© William Cowper

O thou, by long experience tried,
Near whom no grief can long abide;
My love! how full of sweet content
I pass my years of banishment!

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Drake

© Alfred Noyes

  England, my mother,
  Lift to my western sweetheart
  One full cup of English mead, breathing of the may!
  Pledge the may-flower in her face that you and ah, none other,
  Sent her from the mother-land
  Across the dashing spray.

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Solomon

© Thomas Parnell

But long expectance of a bliss delay'd
Breeds anxious doubt, and tempts the sacred maid;
Then mists arising strait repel the light,
The colour'd garden lies disguis'd with night,
A pale-horn'd crescent leads a glimm'ring throng,
And groans of absence jarr within the song.