Power poems
/ page 300 of 324 /Sonet VI
© Robert Louis Stevenson
As in the hostel by the bridge I sate,
Nailed with indifference fondly deemed complete,
And (O strange chance, more sorrowful than sweet)
The counterfeit of her that was my fate,
So Live, So Love, So Use That Fragile Hour
© Robert Louis Stevenson
SO live, so love, so use that fragile hour,
That when the dark hand of the shining power
Shall one from other, wife or husband, take,
The poor survivor may not weep and wake.
Small Is The Trust When Love Is Green
© Robert Louis Stevenson
SMALL is the trust when love is green
In sap of early years;
A little thing steps in between
And kisses turn to tears.
Music At The Villa Marina
© Robert Louis Stevenson
And yet I cry in anguish, as I hear
The long drawn pageant of your passage roll
Magnificently forth into the night.
To yon fair land ye come from, to yon sphere
Of strength and love where now ye shape your flight,
O even wings of music, bear my soul!
I Do Not Fear To Own Me Kin
© Robert Louis Stevenson
I DO not fear to own me kin
To the glad clods in which spring flowers begin;
Or to my brothers, the great trees,
That speak with pleasant voices in the breeze,
Loud talkers with the winds that pass;
Or to my sister, the deep grass.
Had I The Power That Have The Will
© Robert Louis Stevenson
HAD I the power that have the will,
The enfeebled will - a modern curse -
This book of mine should blossom still
A perfect garden-ground of verse.
Away With Funeral Music
© Robert Louis Stevenson
AWAY with funeral music - set
The pipe to powerful lips -
The cup of life's for him that drinks
And not for him that sips.
A Valentine's Song
© Robert Louis Stevenson
MOTLEY I count the only wear
That suits, in this mixed world, the truly wise,
Who boldly smile upon despair
And shake their bells in Grandam Grundy's eyes.
To My Dear Friend Mr. Congreve On His Commedy Call'd The Double Dealer
© John Dryden
Well then; the promis'd hour is come at last;
The present age of wit obscures the past:
Strong were our sires; and as they fought they writ,
Conqu'ring with force of arms, and dint of wit;
Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music
© John Dryden
Now strike the golden lyre again:
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain!
Break his bands of sleep asunder
Song For Saint Cecilia's Day, 1687
© John Dryden
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
The Medal
© John Dryden
Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exiled heirs, or foreign rage,
Till halting vengeance overtook our age,
And our wild labours, wearied into rest,
Reclined us on a rightful monarch's breast.
Religio Laici
© John Dryden
Dar'st thou, poor worm, offend Infinity?
And must the terms of peace be given by thee?
Then thou art justice in the last appeal;
Thy easy God instructs thee to rebel:
And, like a king remote, and weak, must take
What satisfaction thou art pleas'd to make.
Absalom And Achitophel
© John Dryden
Him staggering so when Hell's dire agent found,
While fainting virtue scarce maintain'd her ground,
He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies:
Happy The Man
© John Dryden
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Fading
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
All in the beautiful Autumn weather
One thought lingers with me and stays;
Death and winter are coming together,
Though both are veiled by the amber haze
Limitless
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There is nothing, I hold, in the way of work
That a human being may not achieve
If he does not falter, or shrink, or shirk,
And more than all, if he will believe.
Custer
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
BOOK FIRST.I.ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
An Old Man To His Sleeping Young Bride
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
As when the old moon lighted by the tender
And radiant crescent of the new is seen,
And for a moment's space suggests the splendor
Of what in its full prime it once has been,
Settle The Question Right
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes,
With flaunting flags and neighing nags
And echoing roll of drums;