Power poems
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The Bleeding Rock: Or, The Metamorphosis Of A Nymph Into Stone
© Hannah More
Too soon he heard of fair Ianthe's fame,
'Twas each enamour'd Shepherd's fav'rite theme;
Return'd the rising, and the setting sun,
The Shepherd's fav'rite theme was never done.
They prais'd her wit, her worth, her shape, her air!
And even interior beauties own'd her fair.
Moravian Hymn
© John Wesley
O draw me, Father, after thee,
So shall I run and never tire:
With gracious words still comfort me;
Be thou my hope, my sole desire:
Free me from every weight; nor fear
Nor sin can come, if thou art here.
Subjected Earth
© Robinson Jeffers
Walking in the flat Oxfordshire fields
Where the eye can find no rock to rest on but little flints
Bridegroom Dick
© Herman Melville
All this, old lassie, you have heard before,
But you listen again for the sake e'en o' me;
No babble stales o' the good times o' yore
To Joan, if Darby the babbler be.
Feri's Dream
© Frances Darwin Cornford
I Had a little dog, and my dog was very small;
He licked me in the face, and he answered to my call;
Of all the treasures that were mine, I loved him most of all.
Paradise Lost : Book III.
© John Milton
Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven firstborn,
Or of the Eternal coeternal beam
How Love Looked For Hell.
© Sidney Lanier
"To heal his heart of long-time pain
One day Prince Love for to travel was fain
The Lord of the Isles: Canto I.
© Sir Walter Scott
Here pause we, gentles, for a space;
And, if our tale hath won your grace,
Grant us brief patience, and again
We will renew the minstrel strain.
Two Scenes From The Life Of Blondel
© James Russell Lowell
SCENE I.--_Near a castle in Germany._
'Twere no hard task, perchance, to win
Spring. (From The French Of Charles D'Orleans. XV. Century)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!
The Prayer Of A Lonely Heart
© Frances Anne Kemble
I am aloneoh be thou near to me,
Great God! from whom the meanest are not far.
The Dying Slave
© William Lisle Bowles
Faint-gazing on the burning orb of day,
When Afric's injured son expiring lay,
Reminiscence
© Padraic Colum
Recalling long ago. And she will hop
The inches of her crib, this narrow shop,
When you step in to be her customer:
A bird of little worth, a sparrow, say,
Whose crib's in such neglected passageway
That one's left wondering who brings crumbs to her.
Rosabella - Purity Of Heart
© George Moses Horton
Though with an angel's tongue
I set on fire the congregations all,
'Tis but a brazen bell that I have rung,
And I to nothing fall;
My theme is but an idle air
If Rosabella is not there,
Elegy VII. Anno Aetates Undevigesimo (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
As yet a stranger to the gentle fires
That Amathusia's smiling Queen inspires,
The Indian City
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
What deep wounds ever clos'd without a scar?
The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to wear
That which disfigures it.
Childe Harold
The Vulture and the Husbandman
© Arthur Clement Hilton
The papers they had finished lay
In piles of blue and white.
They answered every thing they could,
And wrote with all their might,
But, though they wrote it all by rote,
They did not write it right.
