Mom poems
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To the Moon [Late Version]
© Charles Harpur
With musing mind I watch thee steal
Above those envious clouds that hid
Sonnet LVIII: None Other Fame
© Samuel Daniel
None other fame mine unambitious Muse
Affected ever but t'eternize thee;
The Columbiad: Book V
© Joel Barlow
Sage Franklin next arose with cheerful mien,
And smiled unruffled o'er the solemn scene;
His locks of age a various wreath embraced,
Palm of all arts that e'er a mortal graced;
Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne,
And the tame thunder from the tempest torn.
Spring
© Lola Ridge
A spring wind on the Bowery,
Blowing the fluff of night shelters
Off bedraggled garments,
And agitating the gutters, that eject little spirals of vapor
Like lewd growths.
Saint Brandan
© Matthew Arnold
Saint Brandan sails the northern main;
The brotherhood of saints are glad.
He greets them once, he sails again;
So late!such storms!The Saint is mad!
Recollections Of Cornwall
© Robert Laurence Binyon
To R. G. R. and H. P. P.
Let not the mind, that would have peace,
Too much repose on former joy,
Nor in pourtraying past delight
Her needed, active power employ!
Shakuntala Act VII (Final Act)
© Kalidasa
ACT VII
King Dushyant with Matali in the chariot of Indra (king of gods in heaven and also god of thunder), supposed to be above the clouds.
King Dushyant: I am sensible, O Matali, that, for having executed the commission which Indra gave me, I deserved not such a profusion of honours.
Eight Years Old
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Power
© George MacDonald
Power that is not of God, however great,
Is but the downward rushing and the glare
The Ancient Blessing
© Hovhannes Toumanian
'Neath a hazel's green, gathered in a ring
Sat the men of age, who had known life's sting.
Steinli Von Slang
© Charles Godfrey Leland
I.
DER watchman look out from his tower
Ash de Abendgold glimmer grew dim,
Und saw on de road troo de Gauer
Lord Of My Life
© Rabindranath Tagore
Didst thou store my days and nights,
my deeds and dreams for the alchemy of thy art,
and string in the chain of thy music my songs of autumn and spring,
and gather the flowers from my mature moments for thy crown?
Hymn of the City
© William Cullen Bryant
Not in the solitude
Alone may man commune with heaven, or see
Only in savage wood
And sunny vale, the present Deity;
Or only hear his voice
Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice.
The host, he says that all is well
© Howard Nemerov
He asked himself, poor moron, because he had
Nobody else to ask. The others went right on
Talking about form, talking about myth
And the (so help us) need for a modern idiom;
The verseballs among them kept counting syllables.
Grandmother's Story Of Bunker Hill Battle (as she saw it from the Belfry)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers
All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls";
When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story,
To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.
Humayun To Zobeida (From the Urdu)
© Sarojini Naidu
You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn,
Your sweetness in the nightingale, your white- ness in the swan.
This is love
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment.
An Epistle To A Friend
© Samuel Rogers
When, with a Reaumur's skill, thy curious mind
Has class'd the insect-tribes of human-kind,
Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,
Its subtle, web-work, or its venom'd sting;
The Enchanted Garden
© Edith Nesbit
OH, what a garden it was, living gold, living green,
Full of enchantments like spices embalming the air,
There, where you fled and I followed--you ever unseen,
Yet each glad pulse of me cried to my heart, "She is there!"
The Maid-Martyr
© Jean Ingelow
Her face, O! it was wonderful to me,
There was not in it what I look'd for-no,
I never saw a maid go to her death,
How should I dream that face and the dumb soul?
