Mom poems
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The Stage-Driver's Story
© Francis Bret Harte
It was the stage-driver's story, as he stood with his back to the
wheelers,
Quietly flecking his whip, and turning his quid of tobacco;
While on the dusty road, and blent with the rays of the moonlight,
We saw the long curl of his lash and the juice of tobacco descending.
The Creek of the Four Graves [Late Version]
© Charles Harpur
A settler in the olden times went forth
With four of his most bold and trusted men
The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening
© William Cowper
Hark! tis the twanging horn oer yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Pharsalia - Book I: The Crossing Of The Rubicon
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
First of such deeds I purpose to unfold
The causes - task immense - what drove to arms
A maddened nation, and from all the world
Struck peace away.
Naked Lonely Hand (Nagna Nirjan Hat)
© Jibanananda Das
Darkness once again thickens throughout the sky:
This darkness, like light's mysterious sister.
She who has loved me always,
Whose face I have yet to see,
Like that woman
Is this darkness, deepening, closing in upon a February sky.
Prayer
© Mikhail Lermontov
At life's most testing moment, when
the grieving heart's replete,
a prayer that is most potent then
I call up and repeat.
Life Is A Dream - Act III
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
FIRST SOLDIER [within]. He is here within this tower.
Dash the door from off its hinges;
Enter all
Forms Of Prayer To Be Used At Sea
© John Keble
The shower of moonlight falls as still and clear
Upon this desert main
On The Cliff-Top
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
FACE upward to the sky
Quiet I lie:
Quiet as if the finger of God's will
Had bade this human mechanism "be still!"
And sent the intangible essence, this strange I,
All wondering forth to His eternity.
A Small Moment by Cornelius Eady: American Life in Poetry #197 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2
© Ted Kooser
I suspect that one thing some people have against reading poems is that they are so often so serious, so devoid of joy, as if we poets spend all our time brooding about mutability and death and never having any fun. Here Cornelius Eady, who lives and teaches in Indiana, offers us a poem of pure pleasure.
Nova
© Catherine Pozzi
Évite l'avenir, Image poursuivie !
Je suis morte de vous, ô mes actes chéris
Ne sois pas défais toi dissipe toi délie
Dénonce le désir que je n'ai pas choisi.
The Night Ride
© Kenneth Slessor
Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down;
Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare,
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
© George Gordon Byron
These are the themes that claim our plaudits now;
These are the bards to whom the muse must bow;
While Milton, Dryden, Pope, alike forgot,
Resign their hallow'd bays to Walter Scott.
Our Heritage
© Alexander Bathgate
A Perfect peaceful stillness reigns,
Not e'en a passing playful breeze
Shakuntala Act 1
© Kalidasa
King Dushyant in a chariot, pursuing an antelope, with a bow and quiver, attended by his Charioteer.
Suta (Charioteer). [Looking at the antelope, and then at the king]
When I cast my eye on that black antelope, and on thee, O king, with thy braced bow, I see before me, as it were, the God Mahésa chasing a hart (male deer), with his bow, named Pináca, braced in his left hand.
Cape Byron.
© James Brunton Stephens
UPON the orient utmost of the land,
Enfranchised of the world, alone, and free,
Come Si Quando
© Robert Seymour Bridges
How thickly the far fields of heaven are strewn with stars !
Tho* the open eye of day shendeth them with its glare
The Wood-Spring To The Poet
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Give, Poet, give!
Thus only shalt thou live.
Give! for 'tis thy joyous doom
To charm, to comfort, to illume.
To the Moon [Earlier Version]
© Charles Harpur
WITH silent step behold her steal
Over those envious clouds that hid
