Mom poems

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Eve

© Ralph Hodgson

Eve, with her basket, was

Deep in the bells and grass,

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The Lover Urges The Better Thrift

© Alice Meynell

Hide then within my heart, O hide
All thou art loth should go from thee.
Be kinder to thyself and me.
My cupful from this river's tide
Shall never reach the long sad sea.

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Youth In Memory

© George Meredith

Days, when the ball of our vision

Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun;

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Sumner

© John Greenleaf Whittier

O Mother State! the winds of March
Blew chill o'er Auburn's Field of God,
Where, slow, beneath a leaden arch
Of sky, thy mourning children trod.

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Scherzo

© James Russell Lowell

When the down is on the chin
And the gold-gleam in the hair,
When the birds their sweethearts win
And champagne is in the air,
Love is here, and Love is there,
Love is welcome everywhere.

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Elegy XIV. Declining an Invitation To Visit Foreign Countries

© William Shenstone

While others, lost to friendship, lost to love,
Waste their best minutes on a foreign strand,
Be mine, with British nymph or swain to rove,
And court the Genius of my native land.

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The Ring And The Book - Chapter VI - Giuseppe Caponsacchi

© Robert Browning

Again the morning found me. “I will work,
“Tie down my foolish thoughts. Thank God so far!
“I have saved her from a scandal, stopped the tongues
“Had broken else into a cackle and hiss
“Around the noble name. Duty is still
“Wisdom: I have been wise.” So the day wore.

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Secret Love

© Amelia Opie

Not one kind look….one friendly word!
Wilt thou in chilling silence sit;
Nor through the social hour afford
One cheering smile, or beam of wit?

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By The Seaside : The Building Of The Ship

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  On the deck another bride
  Is standing by her lover's side.
  Shadows from the flags and shrouds,
  Like the shadows cast by clouds,
  Broken by many a sunny fleck,
  Fall around them on the deck.

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Italy : 51. Marco Griffoni

© Samuel Rogers

War is a game at which all are sure to lose, sooner or
later, play they how they will; yet every nation has
delighted in war, and none more in their day than the
little republic of Genoa, whose galleys, while she had

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Miss T

© Walter de la Mare

It's a very odd thing -
  As odd can be -
That whatever Miss T eats
  Turns into Miss T.;

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The Man of Sentiment

© Kenneth Slessor

Part One
[A walled garden of York. It is an August Sunday, and the baying of deep church-bells is blown faintly in a warm wind. Laurence Sterne, prebendary, aged forty-six, and Catherine de Fromantel, a girl who sings at Ranelagh, are dawdling through the arbours, and pause at a path which runs between hedges and cypress-trees round a corner some fifty yards away. Catherine has walked down such a path before, it is to be feared, and halts cautiously upon its fringes.]
Laurence:
Nay, 'tis no Devil's walk,

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Angkor

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I
Out of the Forest into a terrible splendour
Of noon, the pinnacles of the temple--portals,
Stone Faces, immense in carven ruin
Above the trembling of giant trees emerge.

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Yellowjackets by Yusef Komunyakaa: American Life in Poetry #154 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-

© Ted Kooser

Here, poet Yusef Komunyakaa, who teaches at New York University, shows us a fine portrait of the hard life of a worker—in this case, a horse—and, through metaphor, the terrible, clumsy beauty of his final moments.

Yellowjackets

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A Song Prayer

© George MacDonald

Far parted,
Dull-hearted,
We wander, sleep-walking,
Mere shadows, dim-stalking:
Orphans we roam,
Far from home.

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For My Own Tombstone

© Matthew Prior

To me 'twas given to die; to thee 'tis given
To live: alas! one moment sets us even.
Mark! how impartial is the will of Heaven!

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The Dream Called Life (From the Spanish of Pedro Calderon de la Barca)

© Edward Fitzgerald

From the Spanish of Pedro Calderon de la Barca

A dream it was in which I found myself.

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Souffre Un Moment Encor

© André Marie de Chénier

Souffre un moment encor; tout n'est que changement;

  L'axe tourne, mon coeur; souffre encore un moment.

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Kinu Goala’s Alley – English Translation

© Rabindranath Tagore

This is the alley

Named after Kinu the milkman.

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The Glacier

© Henry Van Dyke

At noon unnumbered rills begin to spring
  Beneath the burning sun, and all the walls
Of all the ocean-blue crevasses ring
  With liquid lyrics of their waterfalls;
As if a poet's heart had felt the glow
Of sovereign love, and song began to flow.