Life poems

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Moments Indulgence

© Rabindranath Tagore

I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works

that I have in hand I will finish afterwards.

An Oriental Apologue

© James Russell Lowell

Somewhere in India, upon a time,

(Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse,)

The Changes: To Corinne

© Robert Herrick

Be not proud, but now incline

Your soft ear to discipline;

The Dome Of Sunday

© Karl Shapiro

With focus sharp as Flemish-painted face

In film of varnish brightly fixed

Ode Written For The Celebration Of The Cochituate Water Into The City Of Boston

My name is Water: I have sped
Through strange, dark ways, untried before,
By pure desire of friendship led,
Cochituate's ambassador;
He sends four royal gifts by me:
Long life, health, peace, and purity.

The Oriental Nosegay. By Pickersgill

© Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Beautiful language! Love's peculiar, own,
But only to the spring and summer known.
Ah! little marvel in such clime and age
As that of our too earth-bound pilgrimage,
That we should daily hear that love is fled,
And hope grown pale, and lighted feelings dead.

Sunrise

© Victor Marie Hugo

Foul times there are when nations spiritless
Throw honour away
For tinsel glory, to base happiness
A mournful prey.

To A Departing Favorite

© George Moses Horton

Thou mayst retire, but think of me
When thou art gone afar,
Where'er in life thy travels be,
If tost along the brackish sea,
Or borne upon the car.

The Baby's Feet

© Edgar Albert Guest

Pinker than the roses that enrich a summer's day,
Splashing in the bath tub or just kicking them in play,
Nothing in the skies above or earth below as sweet,
As fascinating to me as a baby's little feet.

The Double Transformation, A Tale

© Oliver Goldsmith

Secluded from domestic strife,
Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five
Made him the happiest man alive;
He drank his glass and crack'd his joke,
And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.

After Work by John Maloney: American Life in Poetry #184 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

I hope it's not just a guy thing, a delight in the trappings of work. I love this poem by John Maloney, of Massachusetts, which gives us a close look behind the windshields of all those pickup trucks we see heading home from work.

After Work

Untitled 5

© Owen Suffolk

An exile captive, severed from his home,
Torn from the friends he loved in life's sweet spring;
Heart-broken toils, while still his sad thoughts roam
Back to the past which now no joys can bring;
Vainly he seeks compassion and relief
In human hearts around, to cheer of soothe his grief.

On A Pen

© Jonathan Swift

In youth exalted high in air,
Or bathing in the waters fair,
Nature to form me took delight,
And clad my body all in white.

A Womans Sonnets: VIII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

I sue thee not for pity on my case.
If I have sinned, the judgment has begun.
My joy was but one day of all the days,
And clouds have blotted it and hid the sun.

Poem At The Centennial Anniversary Dinner Of The Massachusetts Medical Society

Each has his gifts, his losses and his gains,
Each his own share of pleasures and of pains;
No life-long aim with steadfast eye pursued
Finds a smooth pathway all with roses strewed;
Trouble belongs to man of woman born,--
Tread where he may, his foot will find its thorn.

Bread Soup: An Old Icelandic Recipe by Bill Holm: American Life in Poetry #90 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet

© Ted Kooser

Anyone can write a poem that nobody can understand, but poetry is a means of communication, and this column specializes in poems that communicate. What comes more naturally to us than to instruct someone in how to do something? Here the Minnesota poet and essayist Bill Holm, who is of Icelandic parentage, shows us how to make something delicious to eat.