Power poems

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Tannhauser

© Emma Lazarus

Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.

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From The Italian Of Michael Angelo

© William Wordsworth

YES! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,
And I be undeluded, unbetrayed;
For if of our affections none finds grace
In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made

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The Ghost - Book III

© Charles Churchill

It was the hour, when housewife Morn

With pearl and linen hangs each thorn;

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Marmion: Introduction to Canto II.

© Sir Walter Scott

  But chief 'twere sweet to think such life
(Though but escape from fortune's strife),
Something most matchless good and wise,
A great and grateful sacrifice;
And deem each hour to musing given
A step upon the road to heaven.

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Looking In The Fire

© Ada Cambridge

The snow falls soft and thick. My cedar bough
Sways up and down, and scratches on the glass.
The wind sighs in the chimney, as I sit,
With elbows on my knees, before the fire,
Resting a crumpled chin in hollow'd palms.

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The Forest Sanctuary - Part II.

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

  Ave, sanctissima!
'Tis night-fall on the sea;
  Ora pro nobis!
Our souls rise to thee!

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Star-Gazers

© William Wordsworth

WHAT crowd is this? what have we here! we must not pass it by;
A Telescope upon its frame, and pointed to the sky:
Long is it as a barber's pole, or mast of little boat,
Some little pleasure-skiff, that doth on Thames's waters float.

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The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society

© Oliver Goldsmith

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow

Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,

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Blind Old Milton

© William Edmondstoune Aytoun

Place me once more, my daughter, where the sun

May shine upon my old and time-worn head,

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Don Juan: Canto The Sixth

© George Gordon Byron

'There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,

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The Quaker Of The Olden Time

© John Greenleaf Whittier

THE Quaker of the olden time!
How calm and firm and true,
Unspotted by its wrong and crime,
He walked the dark earth through.

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To The Duke Of Dorset

© George Gordon Byron

Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,

Exploring every path of Ida's glade;

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The Four Seasons : Autumn

© James Thomson

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost

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The Shepherdess Of The Arno

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

’Tis no wild and wond’rous legend, but a simple pious tale
Of a gentle shepherd maiden, dwelling in Italian vale,
Near where Arno’s glittering waters like the sunbeams flash and play
As they mirror back the vineyards through which they take their way.

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The Olive Branch

© George Meredith

A dove flew with an Olive Branch;
It crossed the sea and reached the shore,
And on a ship about to launch
Dropped down the happy sign it bore.

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The First Part: Sonnet 10 - Fair Moon, who with thy cold and silver shine

© William Henry Drummond

Fair Moon, who with thy cold and silver shine

Makes sweet the horror of the dreadful night,

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Ode--"Shell the Old City! Shell!"

© William Gilmore Simms

I.

Shell the old city I shell!

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The Progress of Spring

© Alfred Tennyson

THE groundflame of the crocus breaks the mould,

 Fair Spring slides hither o'er the Southern sea,

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Beer

© Charles Stuart Calverley

In those old days which poets say were golden -

  (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:

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Wind-Clouds And Star-Drifts

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Here am I, bound upon this pillared rock,
Prey to the vulture of a vast desire
That feeds upon my life. I burst my bands
And steal a moment's freedom from the beak,
The clinging talons and the shadowing plumes;
Then comes the false enchantress, with her song;