Power poems
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Thy Will Be Done
© John Greenleaf Whittier
WE see not, know not; all our way
Is night, with Thee alone is day:
Cadyow Castle
© Sir Walter Scott
When princely Hamilton's abode
Ennobled Cadyow's Gothic towers,
The song went round, the goblet flow'd,,
And revel sped the laughing hours.
The Old Stockman's Lament
© Henry Lawson
Wrap me up in me stockwhip and blanket,
And bury me deep down below,
HOW many of the body's health complain,
© Jones Very
HOW many of the body's health complain,
When they some deeper malady conceal;
The Fan : A Poem. Book III.
© John Gay
Learn hence, ye wives; bid vain suspicion cease,
Lose not in sulien discontent your peace.
For when fierce love to jealousy ferments,
A thousand doubts and fears the soul invents,
No more the days in pleasing converse flow,
And nights no more their soft endearments know.
Julia, or the Convent of St. Claire
© Amelia Opie
Stranger, that massy, mouldering pile,
Whose ivied ruins load the ground,
Reechoed once to pious strains
By holy sisters breathed around.
Near The Forum Of Trajan
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
In Rome, as I look from my lattice
And lean to the night,
With All Thy Gifts
© Walt Whitman
WITH all thy gifts, America,
(Standing secure, rapidly tending, overlooking the world,)
The Parsonage Improved
© Henry James Pye
Where gentle Deva's lucid waters glide
In slow meanders thro' the winding vale,
Sappho III
© Sara Teasdale
The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,
And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,
The temples glimmer moon-wise in the trees.
Twilight has veiled the little flower-face
Shakespeare
© Charles Harpur
How oft, in Austral woods, the parting day
Has gone through western golden gates away
While sweetest Shakespeare, fancys darling child,
Warbled for me his native woodnotes wild.
XII: Epistle To Elizabeth Countesse Of Rutland
© Benjamin Jonson
Madame,
VVhil'st that, for which all vertue now is sold,
The Song Of The Bower
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
SAY, is it day, is it dusk in thy bower,
Thou whom I long for, who longest for me?
The Giants Ring
© Robinson Jeffers
BALLYLESSON, NEAR BELFAST
Whoever is able will pursue the plainly
The Night-Wind
© Emily Jane Brontë
In summer's mellow midnight,
A cloudless moon shone through
Our open parlour window,
And rose-trees wet with dew.
The Glass Jar
© Gwen Harwood
Wrapped in a scarf his monstrance stood
ready to bless, to exorcize
monsters that whispering would rise
nightly from the intricate wood
that ringed his bed, to light with total power
the holy commonplace of field and flower.
