Mom poems
/ page 62 of 212 /
Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 2.
© William Cowper
How exquisitely sweet
This rich display of flowers,
This airy wild of fragrance,
So lovely to the eye,
And to the sense so sweet.
The Old Leaven
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Maurice:
No, Mark, I'm not so easily cross'd;
'Tis true that I've had a run
Of bad luck lately; indeed, I've lost;
Well! somebody else has won.
Two Voices
© Edith Nesbit
COUNTRY
'SWEET are the lanes and the hedges, the fields made red with the clover,
Stray Birds 91 - 99
© Rabindranath Tagore
91
THE great earth makes herself hospitable
with the help of the grass.
92
A Story Of Doom: Book III.
© Jean Ingelow
Above the head of great Methuselah
There lay two demons in the opened roof
Invisible, and gathered up his words;
For when the Elder prophesied, it came
About, that hidden things were shown to them,
And burdens that he spake against his time.
The Wharf On ThamesSide; Winter Dawn
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Day begins cold and misty on soiled snow
That frost has ridged and crusted. Sound of steps
Comes, then a shape emerges from the mist
Without haste, trudging tracks the feet know well,
Evangeline: Part The First. IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from the altar.
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people responded,
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; and the Ave Maria
Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devotion translated,
Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven.
Epistle To John Hamilton Reynolds
© John Keats
The doors all look as if they op'd themselves,
The windows as if latch'd by fays and elves,
And from them comes a silver flash of light
As from the westward of a summer's night;
Or like a beauteous woman's large blue eyes
Gone mad through olden songs and poesies.
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book VII - Udyoga -- (The Preparation)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
And to far Hastina's palace Krishna went to sue for peace,
Raised his voice against the slaughter, begged that strife and feud
should cease!
Ballade Des Pendus
© Theodore de Banville
Prince, where leaves murmur of the May,
A tree of bitter clusters grows;
The bodies of men dead are they!
_This is King Louis's orchard close_!
It is not seemly to be famous...
© Boris Pasternak
It is not seemly to be famous:
Celebrity does not exalt;
There is no need to hoard your writings
And to preserve them in a vault.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
The Evening Of The Holiday
© Giacomo Leopardi
The night is mild and clear, and without wind,
And o'er the roofs, and o'er the gardens round
Elvir Hill (From The Old Danish)
© George Borrow
I rested my head upon Elvir Hills side, and my eyes were
beginning to slumber; That moment there rose up before me
two maids, whose charms would take ages to number.
Water-Fowl Observed Frequently Over The Lakes Of Rydal And Grasmere
© William Wordsworth
MARK how the feathered tenants of the flood,
With grace of motion that might scarcely seem
Inferior to angelical, prolong
Their curious pastime! shaping in mid air
The Morning Dream, A Ballad. To The Tune Of 'Tweed Side.'
© William Cowper
'Twas in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day,
Fitz Adam's Story
© James Russell Lowell
The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tell
Was one whom men, before they thought, loved well,
Series
© Paul Eluard
For the splendour of the day of happinesses in the air
To live the taste of colours easily
To enjoy loves so as to laugh
To open eyes at the final moment
