Mom poems
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The House Delirious
© Leon Gellert
These corridors! These corridors and halls!
This change of light and gathered mystery:
These whisperings; this silent dust that palls
The buried gone are mine-a solemn property.
Of the Four Ages of Man
© Anne Bradstreet
Lo, now four other act upon the stage,
Childhood and Youth, the Many and Old age:
The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water,
Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature
The Last Flower
© Alexander Pushkin
Rich the first flower's graces be,
But dearer far the last to me;
My spirit feels renewal sweet,
Of all my dreams hope or desire--
The hours of parting oft inspire
More than the moments when we meet!
The Charm Of 5:30
© David Berman
We're within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say "Hello! My name is..."
Self-Portrait At 28
© David Berman
If squeezed for more information
I can remember old clock radios
with flipping metal numbers
and an entree called Surf and Turf.
Ego Dominus Tuus
© William Butler Yeats
Hic. On the grey sand beside the shallow stream
Under your old wind-beaten tower, where still
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 05:
© Conrad Aiken
The cigarette-smoke loops and slides above us,
Dipping and swirling as the waiter passes;
You strike a match and stare upon the flame.
The tiny fire leaps in your eyes a moment,
And dwindles away as silently as it came.
Lamp Of Love
© Rabindranath Tagore
Misery knocks at thy door,
and her message is that thy lord is wakeful,
and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness of night.
Sicilian Song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
YE black and roguish eyes,If ye command.
Each house in ruins lies,No town can stand.
And shall my bosom's chain,--This plaster wall,?
To think one moment, deign,--Shall ii not fall?1811.
The Charming Earth of Awadh (With English Translation)
© Ali Sardar Jafri
YE SAADGI KIS QADAR HAEEn HAI
MAIn JAIL MEIn BAITHEY BAITHEY AKSAR YE SOCHTAA HOOn
JO HO SAKEY TO AVADH KI PYAARI ZAMEEN KO GOD MEIn UTHAA LOOn
AUR USKI SHAADAAB LAHLAHAATI JABEEn KO
HAZAAROn BOSOn SE JAGMAGAA DOOn
Trilogy of Passion: I. TO WERTHER.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The farewell sunbeams bless'd our ravish'd view;
Fate bade thee go,--to linger here was mine,--
Going the first, the smaller loss was thine.
Time And The Lady
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Haste, maiden, haste! the spray has come to budding,
The dawn creeps o'er the heavens gold and fair.
The Exchange.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast.
Then fickleness soon bids it onwards be flowing;
A second draws nigh, its caresses bestowing,--
The Freebooter,
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
No door has my house,No house has my door;
And in and out everI carry my store.No grate has my kitchen,No kitchen my grate;
Yet roasts it and boils itBoth early and late.My bed has no trestles,My trestles no bed;
Yet merrier momentsNo mortal e'er led.My cellar is lofty,My barn is full deep,
Be Not Dismayed
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Be not dismayed, be not dismayed when death
Sets its white seal upon some worshipped face.
The Walking Bell
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A CHILD refused to go betimesTo church like other people;
He roam'd abroad, when rang the chimesOn Sundays from the steeple.His mother said: "Loud rings the bell,Its voice ne'er think of scorning;
Unless thou wilt behave thee well,'Twill fetch thee without warning."The child then thought: "High over headThe bell is safe suspended--"
So to the fields he straightway spedAs if 'twas school-time ended.The bell now ceas'd as bell to ring,Roused by the mother's twaddle;
Rinaldo.*
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This Cantata was written for Prince Frederick
of Gotha, and set to music by Winter, the Prince singing the part
of Rinaldo.--See the Annalen.]
The Meeting Of The Dryads
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT was not many centuries since,
When, gathered on the moonlit green,
Beneath the Tree of Liberty,
A ring of weeping sprites was seen.
Effects At A Distance.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
On my table's edge."
Each nerve the nimble boy straineth,
And the end of the castle soon gaineth.
Trilogy of Passion: II. ELEGY.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
In the still-closed blossoms of this day?
Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
What wav'ring thoughts within the bosom play
No longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.
