Power poems
/ page 171 of 324 /
Friendships Mystery, To My Dearest Lucasia
© Katherine Philips
Come, my Lucasia, since we see
That miracles Men's Faith do move,
By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry World let's prove
There's a Religion in our Love.
Against Love
© Katherine Philips
Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
Would You Believe It?
© Ellis Parker Butler
One year ago I wished that I
A banker great might be
With a hundred million dollars
And financial majesty;
The Twenty Hoss-Power Shay
© Ellis Parker Butler
Wonderful vehicle, youll admit,
With not one flaw in the whole of it;
As long as I had it, I declare
I hadnt one cent to pay for repair,
It couldnt break down because, you see,
It was such a logical symphony.
The Rich Boys Christmas
© Ellis Parker Butler
And now behold this sulking boy,
His costly presents bring no joy;
Harsh tears of anger fill his eye
Tho he has all that wealth can buy.
The Women of the Town
© Henry Lawson
It is up from out the alleys, from the alleys dark and vile
It is up from out the alleys I have struggled for a while
Just to breathe the breath of Heaven ere my devil drags me down,
And to sing a song of pity for the women of the town.
A Parodist's Apology
© James Kenneth Stephen
If I've dared laugh at you, Robert Browning,
'Tis with eyes that with you have often wept:
You have oftener left me smiling or frowning,
Than any beside, one bard except.
Democracy
© John Greenleaf Whittier
BEARER of Freedom's holy light,
Breaker of Slavery's chain and rod,
The foe of all which pains the sight,
Or wounds the generous ear of God!
Courage
© Celia Thaxter
Because I hold it sinful to despond,
And will not let the bitterness of life
Blind me with burning tears, but look beyond
Its tumult and its strife;
Out In The Open
© Edgar Albert Guest
OUT in the open, I long to be free,
Where the song that I hear is the song of the sea,
Hymn To Death
© William Cullen Bryant
Oh! could I hope the wise and pure in heart
Might hear my song without a frown, nor deem
Under Siege
© Mahmoud Darwish
Here on the slopes of hills, facing the dusk and the cannon of time
Close to the gardens of broken shadows,
We do what prisoners do,
And what the jobless do:
We cultivate hope.
Ike Walton's Prayer
© James Whitcomb Riley
I crave, dear Lord,
No boundless hoard
Of gold and gear,
Nor jewels fine,
The Old Guitar
© James Whitcomb Riley
Neglected now is the old guitar
And moldering into decay;
Fretted with many a rift and scar
That the dull dust hides away,
While the spider spins a silver star
In its silent lips to-day.
Four Quartets 3: The Dry Salvages
© Thomas Stearns Eliot
(The Dry Salvagespresumably les trois sauvagesis a small
group of rocks, with a beacon, off the N.E. coast of Cape Ann,
Massachusetts. Salvages is pronounced to rhyme with assuages.
Groaner: a whistling buoy.)
Mr. Mistoffelees
© Thomas Stearns Eliot
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
