Power poems
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A Thanksgiving Poem
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
The sun hath shed its kindly light,
Our harvesting is gladly o'er
Our fields have felt no killing blight,
Our bins are filled with goodly store.
Look Home
© Robert Southwell
Retired thoughts enjoy their own delights,
As beauty doth in self-beholding eye ;
Man's mind a mirror is of heavenly sights,
A brief wherein all marvels summed lie,
Of fairest forms and sweetest shapes the store,
Most graceful all, yet thought may grace them more.
Pippa Passes: Part IV: Night
© Robert Browning
Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you. Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?Benedicto benedicatur . . . ugh, ugh! Where was I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is mild, very unlike winter-weather: but I am a Sicilian, you know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when 't was full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the Intendant]
Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.
The Rock Of Cader Idris
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
I LAY on that rock where the storms have their dwelling,
The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the cloud;
Aerophorion
© Henry James Pye
When bold Ambition tempts the ingenuous mind
To leave the beaten paths of life behind,
Battle Of Charleston Harbor, April 7, 1863
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
TWO hours, or more, beyond the prime of a blithe April day,
The Northmen's mailed "Invincibles" steamed up fair Charleston Bay;
They came in sullen file, and slow, low-breasted on the wave,
Black as a midnight front of storm, and silent as the grave.
An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry
© Thomas Parnell
I hate the Vulgar with untuneful Mind,
Hearts uninspir'd, and Senses unrefin'd.
Hence ye Prophane, I raise the sounding String,
And Bolingbroke descends to hear me sing.
The Unsung Heroes
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
A song for the unsung heroes who rose in the country's need,
When the life of the land was threatened by the slaver's cruel greed,
For the men who came from the cornfield, who came from the plough and the flail,
Who rallied round when they heard the sound of the mighty man of the rail.
Sonnet VII
© Caroline Norton
LIKE an enfranchised bird, who wildly springs,
With a keen sparkle in his glancing eye
And a strong effort in his quivering wings,
Up to the blue vault of the happy sky,--
To The Boy
© Edgar Albert Guest
I have no wish, my little lad,
To climb the towering heights of fame.
Evangeline: Part The First. III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
BENT like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean,
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public;
Now Spring Has Clad The Grove In Green
© Robert Burns
Now spring has clad the grove in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers;
Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part I
© Henry James Pye
By love of opulence and science led,
Now Commerce wide her peaceful empire spread,
And seas, obedient to the pilot's art,
But join'd the regions which they seem'd to part;
Free intercourse disarm'd the barbarous mind,
Tam'd savage hate, and humaniz'd mankind.
The Lady Of Provence
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
"Courage was cast about her like a dress
Of solemn comeliness,
A gathered mind and an untroubled face
Did give her dangers grace." ~ Donne.
First Love
© Giacomo Leopardi
Ah, well can I the day recall, when first
The conflict fierce of love I felt, and said:
If _this_ be love, how hard it is to bear!
Hymn 69
© Isaac Watts
[Begin, my tongue, some heav'nly theme,
And speak some boundless thing;
The mighty works, or mightier name,
Of our eternal King.
The Change
© Abraham Cowley
LOVE in her sunny eyes does basking play;
Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair;
Love does on both her lips for ever stray
And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there.
In all her outward parts Love's always seen;
But, oh, He never went within.
The Pink
© Henry King
Fair one, you did on me bestow
Comparisons too sweet to ow;
And but I found them sent from you
I durst not think they could be true.
Tim The Dragoon
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Be aisy an' list to a chune
That's sung of bowld Tim the Dragoon—
