Power poems

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The Peace Autumn

© John Greenleaf Whittier

THANK God for rest, where none molest,
And none can make afraid;
For Peace that sits as Plenty's guest
Beneath the homestead shade!

The Wind And The Moon

© George MacDonald

Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out!
You stare
In the air
As if crying Beware,
Always looking what I am about:
I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!"

Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines!
In the soft light of these serenest skies;
From the broad highland region, black with pines,
Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise,
Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold
In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.

Amyntor's Grove, His Chloris, Arigo, And Gratiana. An Elogie

© Richard Lovelace

It was Amyntor's Grove, that Chloris
For ever ecchoes, and her glories;
Chloris, the gentlest sheapherdesse,
That ever lawnes and lambes did blesse;

The Emigrants Monument At Point St. Charles

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

A kindly thought, a generous deed,
Ye gallant sons of toil!
No nobler trophy could ye raise
On your adopted soil
Than this monument to your kindred dead,
Who sleep beneath in their cold, dark bed.

Florio : A Tale, For Fine Gentleman And Fine Ladies. In Two Parts

© Hannah More

PART I.

Florio, a youth of gay renown,

Salute To The Trees

© Henry Van Dyke

Many a tree is found in the wood

And every tree for its use is good:

De Profundis

© George MacDonald

When I am dead unto myself, and let,
O Father, thee live on in me,
Contented to do nought but pay my debt,
And leave the house to thee,

To Anna Akhmatova

© Boris Pasternak

I think I can call on words

that will last: you are there.

Ode III: To The Cuckow

© Mark Akenside

I.

O rustic herald of the spring,

Les Chats (Cats)

© Charles Baudelaire

Les amoureux fervents et les savants austères
Aiment également, dans leur mûre saison,
Les chats puissants et doux, orgueil de la maison,
Qui comme eux sont frileux et comme eux sédentaires.

Dying

© Emily Dickinson

I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.

The Kitten And Falling Leaves

© William Wordsworth

That way look, my Infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the kitten on the wall,

Walter And Jane: Or, The Poor Blacksmith

'We brav'd Life's storm together; while that Drone,
'Your poor old Uncle, WALTER, liv'd alone.
'He died the other day: when round his bed
'No tender soothing tear Affection shed--
'Affection! 'twas a plant he never knew;--
'Why should he feast on fruits he never grew?'

Gnothi Seauton

Then bear thyself, O man!
Up to the scale and compass of thy guest;
Soul of thy soul.
Be great as doth beseem
The ambassador who bears
The royal presence where he goes.