Power poems
/ page 31 of 324 /
Alice And Una. A Tale Of Ceim-An-Eich
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
With a sigh for what is fading, but, O Earth! with no upbraiding,
For we feel that time is braiding newer, fresher flowers for thee,
We will speak, despite our grieving, words of loving and believing,
Tales we vowed when we were leaving awful Ceim-an-eich,
Where the sever'd rocks resemble fragments of a frozen sea,
And the wild deer flee!
Second Sunday In Lent
© John Keble
"And is there in God's world so drear a place
Where the loud bitter cry is raised in vain?
Where tears of penance come too late for grace,
As on the uprooted flower the genial rain?"
Euthanasia
© George Gordon 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!
Biography
© John Masefield
Yet when I am dust my penman may not know
Those water-trampling ships which made me glow,
But think my wonder mad and fail to find,
Their glory, even dimly, from my mind,
And yet they made me:
Lebid
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Gone are they the lost camps, light flittings, long sojournings
in Miná, in Gháula, Rijám left how desolate.
Lost are they. Rayyán lies lorn with its white torrent beds,
scored in lines like writings left by the flood--water.
With Scindia To Delhi
© Rudyard Kipling
More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi,
an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost
with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps,
on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety.
A Maratta trooper tells the story: -
The Eagle of the Blue
© Herman Melville
ALOFT he guards the starry folds
Who is the brother of the star;
The bird whose joy is in the wind
Exulteth in the war.
Paradise Lost : Book IX.
© John Milton
No more of talk where God or Angel guest
With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd,
Within and Without: Part II: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Julian.
Hm! ah! I see.
What kind of man is this Nembroni, nurse?
Hero And Leander: The First Sestiad
© Christopher Marlowe
On Hellespont, guilty of true-love's blood,
In view and opposite two cities stood,
Derne
© John Greenleaf Whittier
NIGHT on the city of the Moor!
On mosque and tomb, and white-walled shore,
On sea-waves, to whose ceaseless knock
The narrow harbor gates unlock,
To W. Hohenzollern, On Discontinuing The Conning Tower
© Franklin Pierce Adams
William, it was, I think, three years ago-
As I recall, one cool October morning-
(You have The Tribune files; I think they'll show
I gave you warning).
The Silver Horn
© Henry Clay Work
"Come, rest with me now, my silver horn!
My melodious joy, my silver horn!
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ROUMELI HISSAR
The Empire of the East, grown dull to fear
By long companionship with angry fate,
In silent anguish saw her doom appear
My Native Land!
© Caroline Norton
WHERE is the minstrel's native land?
Where the flames of light and feeling glow;
Where the flowers are wreathed for beauty's brow;
Where the bounding heart swells strong and high,
With holy hopes which may not die--
There is my native land!
Queen Mab: Part IX.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Earth floated then below;
The chariot paused a moment there;
The Spirit then descended;
The restless coursers pawed the ungenial soil,
Snuffed the gross air, and then, their errand done,
Unfurled their pinions to the winds of heaven.
Sir Eldred Of The Bower : A Legendary Tale: In Two Parts
© Hannah More
There was a young and valiant Knight,
Sir Eldred was his name;
And never did a worthier wight
The rank of knighthood claim.
Lamia. Part I
© John Keats
Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
