Power poems

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A Womans Sonnets: II

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.

The Passing Of The Beautiful

© Madison Julius Cawein

On southern winds shot through with amber light,

Breeding soft balm, and clothed in cloudy white,

Easter Eve

© John Keble

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid

Deep in Thy darksome bed;

Along a stream that raced and ran
Through tangled trees and over stones,
That long had heard the pipes o' Pan
And shared the joys that nature owns,
I met a fellow fisherman,
Who greeted me in cheerful tones.

The Comedian As The Letter C: 04 - The Idea Of A Colony

© Wallace Stevens

Trinket pasticcio, flaunting skyey sheets,
With Crispin as the tiptoe cozener?
No, no: veracious page on page, exact.

To Time

© George Gordon Byron

Time! on whose arbitrary wing
The varying hours must flag or fly,
Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,
But drag or drive us on to die--

Hymn To Mercury

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.
I.
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia

Westward

© Robert Laurence Binyon

I found my Love among the fern. She slept.
My shadow stole across her, as I stept
More lightly and slowly, seeing her pillowed so
In the short--turfed and shelving green hollow

Hymns to the Night : 3

© Novalis

Once when I was shedding bitter tears, when, dissolved in pain, my hope was melting away, and I stood alone by the barren mound which in its narrow dark bosom hid the vanished form of my life - lonely as never yet was lonely man, driven by anxiety unspeakable - powerless, and no longer anything but a conscious misery

Understand That This Is A Dream

© Allen Ginsberg

first dream that made me take down my pants
urgently to show the cars / auto tracks / rolling down avenue hill.
That far back what do I remember / but the face of the leader of the gang
was blond / that loved me / one day on the steps of his house blocks away
all afternoon I told him about my magic Spell
I can do anything I want / palaces millions / chemistry sets / chicken

To Harriet

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Thy look of love has power to calm
The stormiest passion of my soul;
Thy gentle words are drops of balm
In life's too bitter bowl;
No grief is mine, but that alone
These choicest blessings I have known.

As By Fire

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Sometimes I feel so passionate a yearning
For spiritual perfection here below,
This vigorous frame, with healthful fervor burning,
Seems my determined foe,

The Spilling Of The Wine

© Lola Ridge

The night has a rare savor.
Out of the snow-pilesaltar-high and colored as by a
rosy sacrifice Scented vapor
Ascends in a pale incense . . .
Faint astringent perfume
Of blood and wine.

From the Medea of Euripides

The rites derived from ancient days

With thoughtless reverence we praise,

View From The Top Of Black Comb

THIS Height a ministering Angel might select:
For from the summit of BLACK COMB (dread name
Derived from clouds and storms!) the amplest range
Of unobstructed prospect may be seen

The Testimony Of Divine Adoption

How happy are the newborn race,
Partakers of adopting grace!
How pure the bliss they share!
Hid from the world and all its eyes,
Within their heart the blessing lies,
And conscience feels it there.