Power poems

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Feelings of A French Royalist, On The Disinterment Of The Remains Of The Duke DEnghien

© William Wordsworth

DEAR Reliques! from a pit of vilest mould
Uprisen--to lodge among ancestral kings;
And to inflict shame's salutary stings
On the remorseless hearts of men grown old

That's The Way

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Just a little every day-

That's the way!

Whitsunday

© Alessandro Manzoni

Mother of the sons of God,

Image of the house supernal,

The first voice, in that silent crowd, was hers,
Her light snickering laugh, as she stood there
Pausing, scanning the sawdust at her feet.
Then she switcht round and faced the positive man
Whose strong 'She cannot do it!' all still felt
Huskily shouting in their guilty ears.

To Health (From The Greek)

© William Cowper

Eldest born of powers divine!

Bless'd Hygeia! be it mine

Times Changes In A Household

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

They were as fair and bright a band as ever filled with pride
Parental hearts whose task it was children beloved to guide;
And every care that love upon its idols bright may shower
Was lavished with impartial hand upon each fair young flower.

Sheep-Killer

© Ernest G Moll

But since a farmer needs must have his sleep,
That night I put a bullet in his head,
Gave the world back to God, and went to bed.

To My Native Land

© Jens Baggesen

Thou spot of earth, where from the breast of woe
My eye first rose, and in the purple glow
Of morning, and the dewy smile of love,
Marked the first gloamings of the Power above:

Tale XXI

© George Crabbe

rise;
Not there the wise alone their entrance find,
Imparting useful light to mortals blind;
But, blind themselves, these erring guides hold out
Alluring lights to lead us far about;
Screen'd by such means, here Scandal whets her

Psalm CXXXVIII "By the rivers of Babylon."

© Fitz-Greene Halleck

WE sat us down and wept,
Where Babel's waters slept,
And we thought of home and Zion as a long-gone, happy dream;
We hung our harps in air
On the willow boughs, which there,
Gloomy as round a sepulchre, were drooping o'er the stream.

Ode to Ethiopia

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

O Mother Race! to thee I bring
This pledge of faith unwavering,
This tribute to thy glory.
I know the pangs which thou didst feel,
When Slavery crushed thee with its heel,
With thy dear blood all gory.

'All Is Vanity, Saieth the Preacher'

© George Gordon Byron

I.

Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine,

Envy And Avarice

The only words that Avarice could utter,
Her constant doom, in a low, frightened mutter,
"There's not enough, enough, yet in my store!"
While Envy, as she scanned the glittering sight,
Groaned as she gnashed her yellow teeth with spite,
"She's more than me, more, still forever more!"

Sonnets XCII: XCIII: The Sun's Shame

I

Beholding youth and hope in mockery caught

Parody of a Translation from the Medea of Euripides

Ere shall they not, who resolute explore
Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes;
And scanning right the practice of yore,
Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise.