Power poems
/ page 164 of 324 /468. SongOn the Seas and far away
© Robert Burns
Chorus.On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
Are aye with him thats far away.
The Progress of Taste, or the Fate of Delicacy
© William Shenstone
A POEM ON THE TEMPER AND STUDIES OF THE AUTHOR; AND HOW GREAT A MISFORTUNE IT IS FOR A MAN OF SMALL ESTATE TO HAVE MUCH TASTE.
Part first.
140. Masonic SongYe Sons of Old Killie
© Robert Burns
YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,
To follow the noble vocation;
Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another
To sit in that honoured station.
358. A Grace after Dinner
© Robert Burns
O THOU, in whom we live and move
Who made the sea and shore;
Thy goodness constantly we prove,
And grateful would adore;
15. Winter: A Dirge
© Robert Burns
THE WINTRY west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts I.-II.
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
El Nudo (The Knot)
© Delmira Agustini
Su idilio fue una larga sonrisa a cuatro labios…
En el regazo cálido de rubia primavera
Amáronse talmente que entre sus dedos sabios
Palpitó la divina forma de la Quimera.
Fareweel To A'Our Scottish Fame
© Robert Burns
Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,
Sae famed in martial story!
306. Election Ballad at close of Contest for representing the Dumfries Burghs, 1790
© Robert Burns
Now, for my friends and brethrens sakes,
And for my dear-lovd Land o Cakes,
I pray with holy fire:
Lord, send a rough-shod troop o Hell
Oer a wad Scotland buy or sell,
To grind them in the mire!
431. SongRobert Bruces March to Bannockburn
© Robert Burns
SCOTS, wha hae wi WALLACE bled,
Scots, wham BRUCE has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to Victorie!
The Bells and Queen Victoria
© Rudyard Kipling
Our fathers had declared to us her praise-
Her praise the years had proven past all speech.
And past all speech our loyal hearts always,
Always our hearts lay open, each to each-
Therefore men gave the treasure of their blood
To this one woman-for she understood!
Lydia Dick
© Eugene Field
When I was a boy at college,
Filling up with classic knowledge,
Frequently I wondered why
Old Professor Demas Bently
Used to praise so eloquently
"Opera Horatii."
Bonnie Lesley
© Robert Burns
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the Border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
Scots, Wha Hae Wi' Wallace Bled
© Robert Burns
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!
25. My Father was a Farmer: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
MY father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O,
And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O;
He bade me act a manly part, though I had neer a farthing, O;
For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O.
68. The Holy Fair
© Robert Burns
UPON 1 a simmer Sunday morn
When Natures face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn,
An snuff the caller air.
Answer To Tait
© James Clerk Maxwell
The mounted disk of ebonite
Has whirled before, nor whirled in vain;
Rowland of Troy, that doughty knight,
Convection currents did obtain
In such a disk, of power to wheedle,
From its loved North the subtle needle.
To A Louse
© Robert Burns
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze and lace;
Tho' faith, I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
130. Natures Law: A Poem
© Robert Burns
LET other heroes boast their scars,
The marks of sturt and strife:
And other poets sing of wars,
The plagues of human life:
The Art Of War. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
If chiefs like these in combat vers'd have found
Their honors fade as fortune sudden frown'd,
If they have fall'n from fortune's giddy height,
What can ye hope yet novices in fight?
Scarce wean'd by fierce Bellona's fostering arms,
Young in the field, and new to War's alarms.