Mom poems
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Raising The Dead
© John Kenyon
We all have heard, and marvelled as we heard,
Of seers, who have raised the Dead from out their tombs,
The Apparition
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Gentle angel with your mantle,
All of tender green,
I was yearning for a vision
Of the life unseen.
The Beginning
© Jean Ingelow
Such as can see,
Why should they doubt? The childhood of a race.
The childhood of a soul, hath neither doubt
Nor fear. Where all is super-natural
The guileless heart doth feed on it, no more
Afraid than angels are of heaven.
To My Daughter
© Victor Marie Hugo
My child! thou seest me content to lead
A lonely life. Do thou, in imitation,
Not happy, nor triumphant, learn the need
Of resignation.
Lois House
© Julia A Moore
Come all ye young people of every degree,
Come give your attention one moment to me;
It's of a young couple I now will relate,
And of their misfortunes and of their sad fate.
The Witch of Hebron
© Charles Harpur
Of golden lamps, showed many a treasure rare
Of Indian and Armenian workmanship
Which might have seemed a wonder of the world:
And trains of servitors of every clime,
Greeks, Persians, Indians, Ethiopians,
In richest raiment thronged the spacious halls.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Student's Tale; The Falcon of Ser Federigo
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Who is thy mother, my fair boy?" he said,
His hand laid softly on that shining head.
"Monna Giovanna. Will you let me stay
A little while, and with your falcon play?
We live there, just beyond your garden wall,
In the great house behind the poplars tall."
Shameful Death
© William Morris
There were four of us about that bed;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head,
Over his feet lay the bride;
We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide.
The Shepherds Calendar - March
© John Clare
March month of 'many weathers' wildly comes
In hail and snow and rain and threatning hums
And floods: while often at his cottage door
The shepherd stands to hear the distant roar
The Third Booke Of Qvodlibets
© Robert Hayman
Kings doe correct those that Rebellious are,
And their good Subjects worthily preferre:
Iust Epigrams reproue those that offend,
And those that vertuous are, she doth commend.
Ode to Walt Whitman
© Federico Garcia Lorca
By the East River and the Bronx
boys were singing, exposing their waists
with the wheel, with oil, leather, and the hammer.
Ninety thousand miners taking silver from the rocks
and children drawing stairs and perspectives.
Pelleas And Ettarre
© Alfred Tennyson
King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap
Left by the Holy Quest; and as he sat
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors
Were softly sundered, and through these a youth,
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields
Past, and the sunshine came along with him.
The Chapel Royal St. Jamess, On The 10th February, 1840
© Caroline Norton
But brightly to the last,
Fair Fortune shine, with calm and steady ray,
Upon the tenor of thy happy way;
A future like the past:
And every prayer by loyal subjects said,
Bring down a separate blessing on thy head!
On The Day Of The Destruction Of Jerusalem By Titus
© George Gordon Byron
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome,
I beheld thee, oh Sion! when render'd to Rome:
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.
The Devil's Drive: An Unfinished Rhapsody
© George Gordon Byron
'I have a state-coach at Carlton House,
A chariot in Seymour Place;
But they're lent to two friends, who make me amends,
By driving my favourite pace:
And they handle their reins with such a grace,
I have something for both at the end of their race.
Beneath The Snow
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Twas near the close of the dying year,
And Decembers winds blew cold and drear,
Driving the snow and sharp blinding sleet
In gusty whirls through square and street,
Shrieking more wildly and fiercely still
In the dreary grave-yard that crowns the hill.
Lines To W. L. While He Sang A Song To Purcell's Music
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
While my young cheek retains its healthful hues,
And I have many friends who hold me dear;
L----! methinks, I would not often hear
Such melodies as thine, lest I should lose
Book Eighth: Retrospect--Love Of Nature Leading To Love Of Man
© William Wordsworth
WHAT sounds are those, Helvellyn, that are heard
Up to thy summit, through the depth of air
