Pet poems
/ page 22 of 126 /Jardin Noir
© Antonin Artaud
Spin the eddies of the sky inside these black petals.
Shadows have covered the earth that bears us.
Open a pathway to the plough amongst your stars.
Enlighten us, escort us with your host,
Silver legions, on the mortal course
Which we strive towards at the core of night.
Introito
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Eramos aturdidos mozalbetes:
Blanco listón al codo, ayes agónicos,
Rimas atolondradas y juguetes.
Achill Girl's Song
© Padraic Colum
Id bring you these for dowry
A field from heather free,
White sheep upon the mountain,
And calves that follow me.
Danger d'aller dans les bois
© Victor Marie Hugo
Ne te figure pas, ma belle,
Que les bois soient pleins d'innocents.
La feuille s'émeut comme l'aile
Dans les noirs taillis frémissants ;
To James Russell Lowell
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Here let us keep him, here he saw the light,--
His genius, wisdom, wit, are ours by right;
And if we lose him our lament will be
We have "five hundred"--_not_ "as good as he."
Lines On The Death Of Bismarck
© John Jay Chapman
Thought cannot grasp the Cause: 'tis in the abyss
With Nature's secrets. But, gigantic wreck,
Thou wast the Instrument! And thy huge limbs
Cover nine kingdoms as thou lie'st asleep.
Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Should mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."
Une Feuille Morte
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Je rêve debout devant la porte
Qui vient de se fermer sur moi.
Je colle mes yeux en triste sorte
Sur ce carré de sombre bois.
To ---, Written At Venice
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Not only through the golden haze
Of indistinct surprise,
With which the Ocean--bride displays
Her pomp to stranger eyes;--
The Ruined Homestead
© Roland Robinson
White birds, frightened from silver grass,
whose blood-rose breasts and wings are thrown
like petals settling down the pass,
flower the ruined homesteads stone.
A Brisbane Reverie.
© James Brunton Stephens
AS I sit beside my little study window, looking down
From the heights of contemplation (attic front) upon the town
Rheims Cathedral -- 1914
© Grace Hazard Conkling
But who has heard within thy valuted gloom
That old divine insistence of the sea,
When music flows along the sculptured stone
In tides of prayer, for him thy windows bloom
Like faithful sunset, warm immortally!
Thy bells live on, and Heaven is in their tone!
Metamorphoses: Book The Sixth
© Ovid
The End of the Sixth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Alberto by Warren Woessner: American Life in Poetry #118 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Our species has developed monstrous weapons that can kill not only all of us but everything else on the planet, yet when the wind rises we run for cover, as we have done for as long as we've been on this earth. Here's hoping we never have the skill or arrogance to conquer the weather. And weather stories? We tell them in the same way our ancestors related encounters with fearsome dragons. This poem by Minnesota poet Warren Woessner honors the tradition by sharing an experience with a hurricane.
'The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 3
© Publius Vergilius Maro
WHEN Heavn had overturnd the Trojan state
And Priams throne, by too severe a fate;
A Little The Best Of It
© Edgar Albert Guest
A LITTLE the best of it,
Allus he prayed for,
All th' time lookin'
Per more than he paid for,
Had an idee, that's
What bargains are made for.
The Harpers Story
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
My pretty ladies, mid this Christmas cheer,
Loth though I am to wake a single tear