Power poems
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Extinction: The Airman's Prayer
© Davey Ernest Raymond
Almighty and all present power,Short is the prayer I make to thee;I do not ask in battle hourFor any shield to cover me.
Musophilus
© Samuel Daniel
Power above powers, O heavenly eloquence, That with the strong rein of commanding words Dost manage, guide, and master th' eminence Of men's affections more than all their swords: Shall we not offer to thy excellence The richest treasure that our wit affords? Thou that canst do much more with one poor pen Than all the powers of princes can effect, And draw, divert, dispose, and fashion menBetter than force or rigour can direct: Should we this ornament of glory then, As th' unmaterial fruits of shades, neglect?Or should we, careless, come behind the rest In power of words, that go before in worth? Whenas our accents, equal to the best, Is able greater wonders to bring forth; When all that ever hotter spirits express'd, Comes better'd by the patience of the north
The Civil Wars between the Two Houses of Lancaster and York
© Samuel Daniel
The swift approach and unexpected speedThe king had made upon this new-rais'd force,In the unconfirmed troops, much fear did breed,Untimely hind'ring their intended course
The Husband’s and Wife’s Grave
© Dana Richard Henry
Husband and wife! No converse now ye hold,As once ye did in your young days of love,On its alarms, its anxious hours, delays,Its silent meditations, its glad hopes,Its fears, impatience, quiet sympathies;Nor do ye speak of joy assured, and blissFull, certain, and possessed
Sonnet VII. Whither is Gone the Wisdom and the Power
© Hartley Coleridge
Whither is gone the wisdom and the powerThat ancient sages scatter'd with the notesOf thought-suggesting lyres? The music floatsIn the void air; e'en at this breathing hour,In every cell and every blooming bowerThe sweetness of old lays is hovering still:But the strong soul, the self-constraining will,The rugged root that bare the winsome flowerIs weak and wither'd
To the Ladies
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
WIFE and servant are the same,But only differ in the name :For when that fatal knot is ty'd,Which nothing, nothing can divide :When she the word obey has said,And man by law supreme has made,Then all that's kind is laid aside,And nothing left but state and pride :Fierce as an eastern prince he grows,And all his innate rigour shows :Then but to look, to laugh, or speak,Will the nuptial contract break
An Open Erotics of Gzowski
© Christakos Margaret
The voice of the bodiless lover is a tropefor the world's brooding power to scintillate our aliveness
The Triumph of Love
© Govinda Krishna Chettur
Dearest, and yet more dear than I can tell In these poor halting rhymes, when, word by word, You spell the passion that your beauty stirredSwiftly to flame, and holds me as a spell,You will not think he writeth "ill" or "well", Nor question make of the fond truths averred, But Love, of that, by Love's self charactered, A perfect understanding shall impel
The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 58r}}¶Here bigynneth the prologe of the taleof the Wyf of BatheEXperience / thogh noon AuctoriteeWere in this world / is right ynogh for meTo speke of wo / that is in mariageffor lordynges / sith
þt
I twelf yeer was of ageThonked be god / that is eterne on lyueHou{s}bondes atte chirche dore / I haue had fyueIf I so ofte / myghte han wedded beAnd alle were worthy men / in hir degreeBut me was told certeyn / noght longe agon isThat sith
þt
The Shipman's Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 204r}}¶Here bigynneth the Shipmannes tale A Marchant whilom / dwelled at Seint Denys That riche was / for which men helde hym wys A wyf he hadde / of excellent beautee And compaignable / and reuelous was she Which is a thyng/ that cau{s}eth moore di{s}pence Than worth / is al the cheere and reuerence That men hem doon / at fe{s}tes and at daunces Swiche salutacions / and contenances Pa{ss}en / as dooth a shadwe vp on the wal But wo is hym / that payen moot for al The sely hou{s}bonde / algate he moot paye He moot vs clothe / and he moot vs arraye Al for his owene wor{s}hip / richely In which array / we dauncen iolily And if
þt
he noght may /
per
The Pardoner's Introduction, Prologue, and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 195r}}¶The myry talkyng/ of the hoo{s}t/ to the Phi{s}cienOure hoo{s}t gan to swere / as he were woodHarrow quod he / by nayles and by bloodThis was a fals cherl / and a fals Iu{s}ti{s}eAs shameful deeth / as herte may deuy{s}eCome to thi{s}e Iuges / and hir aduocatzAlgate this sely mayde / is slayn allasAllas / to deere boghte she beauteeWherfore I seye alday /
þt
men may {s}eThat yiftes of ffortune / and of natureBeen cau{s}e of deeth / to many a creatureOf bothe yiftes /
þt
The General Prologue from the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 2r}}Here bygynneth the Book{/} of the tales of Can
ter
buryWhan that Aueryll
with
The Friar's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 73v}}¶The prologe of the ffreres tale This worthy lymytour / this noble frere He made alwey / a manere louryng cheere Vp on the Somnour / but for hone{s}tee No vileyns word / as yet to hym spak he But atte la{s}te / he seyde vn to the wyf ¶ Dame quod he god yeue yow right good lyf Ye han heer touched / al {s}o mote I thee In scole matere / greet difficultee Ye han seyd muche thyng/ right wel I seye But dame / here as we ryden by the weye Vs nedeth nat/ to speken / but of game And lete Auctoritees / on goddes name To prechyng/ and to scole of clergye But/ if it like / to this compaignye I wol yow / of a Somnour telle a game Pardee / ye may wel knowe by the name That of a Somn
our
/ may no good be {s}ayd I praye / that noon of yow / be ypayd A somnour / is a rennere vp and doun With mandementz / for fornicacioun And is ybet/ at euery townes ende ¶ Oure hoo{s}t tho spak / a sire ye sholde be hende{{Folio 74r}} And curteys / as a man of youre e{s}taat/ In compaignye / we wol no debaat/ Telleth youre tale / and lat the Somn
our
"The Day is Done"
© Cary Phoebe
The day is done, and darkness From the wing of night is loosed,As a feather is wafted downward From a chicken going to roost.
Namby-Pamby: or, A Panegyric on the New Versification
© Henry Carey
Nauty Pauty Jack-a-DandyStole a Piece of Sugar-Candy,From the Grocer's Shoppy-shop,And away did hoppy-hop.
Manfred: Incantation
© George Gordon Byron
When the moon is on the wave, And the glow-worm in the grass,And the meteor on the grave, And the wisp on the morass;When the falling stars are shooting,And the answer'd owls are hooting,And the silent leaves are stillIn the shadow of the hill,Shall my soul be upon thine,With a power and with a sign
