Power poems
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The Dark Angel
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
DARK Angel, with thine aching lust
To rid the world of penitence:
Malicious Angel, who still dost
My soul such subtile violence!
The Lady, the Knight, and the Friar
© Thomas Love Peacock
O cavalier! what dost thou here,
Thy tuneful vigils keeping;
While the northern star looks cold from far
And half the world is sleeping?
Humanity
© Charles Harpur
I dreamed I was a sculptor, and had wrought
Out of a towering adamantine crag
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 05 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
Gernando scorns Rinaldo should aspire
Queen Mab: Part IV.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh,
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear,
'Ah, Koelue . . .'
© Isaac Rosenberg
Ah, Koelue!
Had you embalmed your beauty, so
It could not backward go,
Or change in any way,
The Monk
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN in my narrow cell I lie,
The long day's penance done at last,
I see the ghosts of days gone by,
And hear the voices of the past.
Ode to Duty
© William Wordsworth
. Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
St. Anthony The Reformer
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
No fear lest praise should make us proud!
We know how cheaply that is won;
The idle homage of the crowd
Is proof of tasks as idly done.
Ruth
© Henry Lawson
Are the fields of my fancy less fair through a window thats narrowed and barred?
Are the morning stars dimmed by the glare of the gas-light that flares in the yard?
No! And what does it matter to me if to-morrow I sail from the land?
I am free, as I never was free! I exult in my loneliness grand!
The Hawthorn Bower
© John Cunningham
Palemnon, in the hawthorn bower,
With fond impatience lay,
He counted every anxious hour
That stretch'd the tedious day.
Angelo
© William Watson
Then Angelo bethought him of his vow;
And stepping forward stood before the twain;
And from his girdle plucked a dagger forth;
And spake no word, but pierced his own heart through.
The Song Of Iron
© Lola Ridge
Not yet hast Thou sounded
Thy clangorous music,
Whose strings are under the mountains…
Not yet hast Thou spoken
The blooded, implacable Word…
Sonnet To The Calbassia-Tree
© Helen Maria Williams
SUBLIME Calbassia! luxuriant tree,
How soft the gloom thy bright-hued foliage throws!
Within and Without: Part I: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Robert.
Head in your hands as usual! You will fret
Your life out, sitting moping in the dark.
Come, it is supper-time.
The Christening
© Caroline Norton
So let it be! and when the noble head
Of thy true-hearted father, babe beloved,
Now glossy dark, is silver-gray instead,
And thy young birth-day far away removed;
Still may'st thou be a comfort and a joy,--
Still welcome as this day, unconscious boy!
Sonnet. Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer's Tale Of 'The Floure And The Lefe'
© John Keats
This pleasant tale is like a little copse:
The honied lines do freshly interlace,
To keep the reader in so sweet a place,
So that he here and there full hearted stops;
