Power poems

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The Vision Of Echard

© John Greenleaf Whittier

The Benedictine Echard
Sat by the wayside well,
Where Marsberg sees the bridal
Of the Sarre and the Moselle.

This is our lot if we live so long and labour unto the end
Then we outlive the impatient years and the much too patient friend:
And because we know we have breath in our mouth and think we have thoughts enough in our head,
We shall assume that we are alive, whereas we are really dead.

Tree, Old Tree Of The Triple Crook

© William Ernest Henley

Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Crook

And the rope of the Black Election,

A Postscript unto the Reader

© Michael Wigglesworth

And now good Reader, I return again

To talk with thee, who hast been at the pain

Coronation Poem And Prayer

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The world has crowned a thousand kings:

But destiny has kept

The Hostile Brothers

© Heinrich Heine

Yonder, on the mountain summit,
Lies the castle wrapped in night;
In the valley gleam the sparkles
Struck from clashing swords in fight.

Reverence Waking Hope

© George MacDonald

A power is on me, and my soul must speak

To thee, thou grey, grey man, whom I behold

Hymn 117

© Isaac Watts

Behold the potter and the clay,
He forms his vessels as he please:
Such is our God, and such are we,
The subjects of his high decrees.

A Deepe Groane Fetch'd at the Funerall of that incomparable and Glorious Monarch, CHARLES THE FIRST

© Henry King

To speak our Griefes as full over thy Tombe

(Great Soul) we should be Thunder-struck, and dumbe:

O'Hara, J.P.

© Henry Lawson

James Patrick O'Hara the Justice of Peace,
He bossed the P.M. and he bossed the police;
A parent, a deacon, a landlord was he
A townsman of weight was OHara, J.P.

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 06 - part 08

© Torquato Tasso

XCIX

"Thou must," quoth she, "be mine ambassador,

Praise from All Men

© George Sandys

All from the sun's uprise,

Unto his setting rays,

Where Are You Poets?

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

Where are you, Poets, that a Hero dies

Unsung? He who, when Duty brought too soon

Memorials Of A Tour In Scotland, 1803 X. Rob Roys Grave

Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless heart
And wondrous length and strength of arm:
Nor craved he more to quell his foes,
Or keep his friends from harm.

The Clay

© Jones Very

Thou shalt do what Thou wilt with thine own hand,

Thou form'st the spirit like the moulded clay;

The Women Who Ministered Unto Him

Enough he labours for his hire;
Yea, nought can pay his pain;
But powers that wear and waste and tire,
Need help to toil again.

The Bull

In the olive darkness of the sally-trees
silently moved the air from night to day.
The summer-grass was thick with honey daisies
where he, a curled god, a red Jupiter,
heavy with power among his women lay.