Mom poems
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I Have Been Pierced By The Arrow Of Love
© Bulleh Shah
I have been pierced by the arrow of love,
what shall I do ?
The Trembling Tree
© Robert Laurence Binyon
On greenest grass the lace of lights
Beneath the shadowing tree
Trembles, as when eyes more than lips
Are smiling silently.
A Soliloquy Of The Full Moon, She Being In A Mad Passion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Now as Heaven is my Lot, they're the Pests of the Nation!
Wherever they can come
With clankum and blankum
'Tis all Botheration, & Hell & Damnation,
My Only Title
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
My only title to her grace
Is her sad, too silent face;
All my right to call her mine
The twin tears that on it shine,
Song Of The Six Hundred M.P.'S
© Ezra Pound
We are 'ere met together
in this momentous hower,
Ter lick th' bankers' dirty boots
an' keep the Bank in power.
Aurora Leigh: Book Three
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
"To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee," said the Lord, "to go
Where thou wouldst not." He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downward.
Sordello: Book the Second
© Robert Browning
What next? The curtains see
Dividing! She is there; and presently
He will be there-the proper You, at length-
In your own cherished dress of grace and strength:
Most like, the very Boniface!
The Execution Of Montrose
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
COME hither, Evan Cameron!
Come, stand beside my knee:
Hymn XX: Weary Souls, that Wander Wide
© Charles Wesley
Weary souls, that wander wide
From the central point of bliss,
Turn to Jesus crucified,
Fly to those dear wounds of his:
Sink into the purple flood;
Rise into the life of God!
I could dieto know
© Emily Dickinson
I could dieto know
'Tis a trifling knowledge
News-Boys salute the Door
Cartsjoggle by
Morning's bold facestares in the window
Were but minethe Charter of the least Fly
Flower-De-Luce: Killed At The Ford
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
He is dead, the beautiful youth,
The heart of honor, the tongue of truth,
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Prelude; The Wayside Inn
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn
Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves
Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves
Their crimson curtains rent and thin.
The Golden Legend: IV. The Road To Hirschau
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Onward and onward the highway runs
to the distant city, impatiently bearing
Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of
hate, of doing and daring!
Some Account Of A New Play
© Richard Harris Barham
Tavistock Hotel, Nov. 1839.
Dear Charles,
- In reply to your letter, and Fanny's,
Lord Brougham, it appears, isn't dead,- though Queen Anne is;
'Twas a 'plot' and a 'farce'- you hate farces, you say -
Take another 'plot,' then, viz. the plot of a Play.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book II - Part 02 - Atomic Motions
© Lucretius
Now come: I will untangle for thy steps
Now by what motions the begetting bodies
Apart
© Madison Julius Cawein
While sunset burns and stars are few,
And roses scent the fading light,
And like a slim urn, dripping dew,
A spirit carries through the night,
The pearl-pale moon hangs new,--
I think of you, of you.
Don Juan: Canto The Fourth
© George Gordon Byron
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
Good-Bye My Fancy!
© Walt Whitman
blended into one;
Then if we die we die together, (yes,we'll remain one,)
If we go anywhere we'll be better off and blither, and learn something,
May-be it is yourself now really ushering me
Arabella Stuart
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
And is not love in vain,
Torture enough without a living tomb?
Byron
