Power poems
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The Norsemen ( From Narrative and Legendary Poems )
© John Greenleaf Whittier
GIFT from the cold and silent Past!
A relic to the present cast,
Left on the ever-changing strand
Of shifting and unstable sand,
The Frost Spirit
© John Greenleaf Whittier
He comes, - he comes, - the Frost Spirit comes!
You may trace his footsteps now
On the naked woods and the blasted fields
And the brown hill's withered brow.
The Farewell
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Of A Virginia Slave Mother To Her Daughters Sold Into Southern BondageGone, gone, -- sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings
Where the noisome insect stings
Concerning The Philosophers Stone. ( Alchemical Verse .)
© John Gower
And also with great diligence,
Thei fonde thilke Experience:
The Eternal Goodness
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.
Snowbound, a Winter Idyl
© John Greenleaf Whittier
To the Memory of the Household It DescribesThis Poem is Dedicated by the Author"As the Spirit of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits, which be Angels of Light, are augmented not only by the Divine light of the Sun, but also by our common Wood Fire: and as the Celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our fire of Wood doth the same."
Cor. Agrippa, Occult Philosophy, Book I, ch. v.
"Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Maud Muller
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Maud Muller on a summer's day
Raked the meadow sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry gleee
The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But when she glanced to the far-off town
Massachusetts To Virginia
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The blast from Freedom's Northern hills, upon its Southern way,
Bears greeting to Virginia from Massachusetts Bay:
No word of haughty challenging, nor battle bugle's peal,
Nor steady tread of marching files, nor clang of horsemen's steel,
The Soudanese
© William Watson
They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage
The bitter battle. On their God they cried
Ichabod
© John Greenleaf Whittier
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Which once he wore!
The glory from his gray hairs gone
Forevermore!
Dramatic Fragment
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WE might have been! ah, yes! we might have been
Among the laurelled noblemen of thought,
Who lift their species with them as they climb
To deathless empire in the realm of gods;
Flowers in Winter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
How strange to greet, this frosty morn,
In graceful counterfeit of flower,
These children of the meadows, born
Of sunshine and of showers!
Burning Drift-Wood
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Before my drift-wood fire I sit,
And see, with every waif I burn,
Old dreams and fancies coloring it,
And folly's unlaid ghosts return.
from Jubilate Agno, Fragment B, lines 695-768
© Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For is this done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 4
© Christopher Smart
Tho' toad I am the object of man's hate.
Yet better am I than a reprobate. who has the worst of prospects.
For there are stones, whose constituent particles are little toads.
Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 3
© Christopher Smart
For a Man is to be looked upon in that which he excells as on a prospect.
Jubilate Agno: Fragment A
© Christopher Smart
Rejoice in God, O ye Tongues; give the glory to the Lord, and the Lamb.
For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry (excerpt, Jubilate Agno)
© Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
Resignation
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Yes! even I was in Arcadia born,
And, in mine infant ears,
A vow of rapture was by Nature sworn;-
Yes! even I was in Arcadia born,
And yet my short spring gave me only-tears!
