Power poems
/ page 248 of 324 /A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - March
© George MacDonald
1.
THE song birds that come to me night and morn,
Remind Me Not, Remind Me Not
© Lord Byron
Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee;
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till Time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.
The Prisoner of Chillon
© Lord Byron
I
My hair is gray, but not with years,
Nor grew it white
In a single night,
Lara
© Lord Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte
© Lord Byron
I
'Tis done -- but yesterday a King!
And arm'd with Kings to strive --
And now thou art a nameless thing:
Euthanasia
© Lord Byron
When Time, or soon or late, shall bring
The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead,
Oblivion! may thy languid wing
Wave gently o'er my dying bed!
Lines Written Beneath An Elm In The Churchyard Of Harrow
© Lord Byron
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
The Owl Describing Her Young Ones
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Why was that baleful Creature made,
Which seeks our Quiet to invade,
And screams ill Omens through the Shade?
In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit: 124.
© Alfred Tennyson
A warmth within the breast would melt
The freezing reason's colder part,
And like a man in wrath the heart
Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt."
Hermann And Dorothea - VI. Klio
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Thus the magistrate spoke. The others departed and thanked him,
And the pastor produced a gold piece (the silver his purse held
He some hours before had with genuine kindness expended
When he saw the fugitives passing in sorrowful masses).
On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year
© Lord Byron
'Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
A Rocking Hymn
© George Wither
Sweet baby, sleep! what ails my dear,
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullaby.
My pretty lamb, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.
The Dream
© Lord Byron
My dream is past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a realitythe one
To end in madnessboth in misery.
Darkness
© Lord Byron
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
To Miss Hickman, Playing the Spinet
© Samuel Johnson
Bright Stella, form'd for universal reign,
Too well you know to keep the slaves you gain;
The House of Sleep
© Robert Fuller Murray
When we have laid aside our last endeavour,
And said farewell to one or two that weep,
And issued from the house of life for ever,
To find a lodging in the house of sleep -
Twenty-Fourth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Why should we faint and fear to live alone,
Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die,
Nor e'en the tenderest heart, and next our own,
Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh?
The Lapse of Time
© William Cullen Bryant
Lament who will, in fruitless tears,
The speed with which our moments fly;
I sigh not over vanished years,
But watch the years that hasten by.
Edward Hirsch
© Edward Hirsch
A hook shot kisses the rim and
hangs there, helplessly, but doesn't drop,
Acon and Rhodope
© Walter Savage Landor
Fathers have given life, but virgin heart
They never gave; and dare they then control
Or check it harshly? dare they break a bond
Girt round it by the holiest Power on high?