Power poems
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The Maori's Wool
© Andrew Barton Paterson
The Maoris are a mighty race -- the finest ever known;
Before the missionaries came they worshipped wood and stone;
They went to war and fought like fiends, and when the war was done
They pacified their conquered foes by eating every one.
Black Swans
© Andrew Barton Paterson
As I lie at rest on a patch of clover
In the Western Park when the day is done.
I watch as the wild black swans fly over
With their phalanx turned to the sinking sun;
Behind the Scenes
© Andrew Barton Paterson
'Tis each and all a work of art,
That constant care and practice means --
The actor who creates a part
Has done his work behind the scenes.
The Man From Snowy River
© Andrew Barton Paterson
There was movement at the station, for the word has passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horseshe was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
Ambition and Art
© Andrew Barton Paterson
Ambition
I am the maid of the lustrous eyes
Of great fruition,
Whom the sons of men that are over-wise
Have called Ambition.
Poppies On Ludlow Castle
© Willa Cather
THROUGH halls of vanished pleasure,
And hold of vanished power,
And crypt of faith forgotten,
A came to Ludlow tower.
Paradox
© Willa Cather
I KNEW them both upon Miranda's isle,
Which is of youth a sea-bound seigniory:
Misshapen Caliban, so seeming vile,
And Ariel, proud prince of minstrelsy,
Stanzas
© Charlotte Bronte
IF thou be in a lonely place,
If one hour's calm be thine,
As Evening bends her placid face
O'er this sweet day's decline;
Frances
© Charlotte Bronte
SHE will not sleep, for fear of dreams,
But, rising, quits her restless bed,
And walks where some beclouded beams
Of moonlight through the hall are shed.
Gilbert
© Charlotte Bronte
I. THE GARDEN.ABOVE the city hung the moon,
Right o'er a plot of ground
Where flowers and orchard-trees were fenced
With lofty walls around:
Winter Stores
© Charlotte Bronte
WE take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.
The Missionary
© Charlotte Bronte
Lough, vessel, plough the British main,
Seek the free ocean's wider plain;
Leave English scenes and English skies,
Unbind, dissever English ties;
Pilate's Wife's Dream
© Charlotte Bronte
I've quenched my lamp, I struck it in that start
Which every limb convulsed, I heard it fall
The crash blent with my sleep, I saw depart
Its light, even as I woke, on yonder wall;
Over against my bed, there shone a gleam
Strange, faint, and mingling also with my dream.
The Wood
© Charlotte Bronte
BUT two miles more, and then we rest !
Well, there is still an hour of day,
And long the brightness of the West
Will light us on our devious way;
Love Song to My Neighborhoods
© Kelli Russell Agodon
Sometimes I stroll through forests
just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock
into the bushes to distract the hunters. Deer
me. I am writing to my hazards.
To the Muse
© Alexander Blok
In your hidden memories
There are fatal tidings of doom...
A curse on sacred traditions,
A desecration of happiness;
Silence and Stealth of Days
© Henry Vaughan
Silence, and stealth of days! 'tis now
Since thou art gone,
Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow
But clouds hang on.
Children Selecting Books In A Library
© Randall Jarrell
With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright.
The child's head, bent to the book-colored shelves,
Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering,
Moving in blind grace ... yet from the mural, Care
The Woman At The Washington Zoo
© Randall Jarrell
The saris go by me from the embassies.Cloth from the moon. Cloth from another planet.
They look back at the leopard like the leopard.And I. . . .
this print of mine, that has kept its color
Alive through so many cleanings; this dull null
The Man With The Hoe
© Edwin Markham
BOWED by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
