Respect poems
/ page 7 of 43 /
Under The Old Elm
© James Russell Lowell
Placid completeness, life without a fall
From faith or highest aims, truth's breachless wall,
Surely if any fame can bear the touch,
His will say 'Here!' at the last trumpet's call,
The unexpressive man whose life expressed so much.
The Little Dog
© Jean de La Fontaine
'TWOULD endless prove, and nothing would avail,
Each lover's pain minutely to detail:
Their arts and wiles; enough 'twill be no doubt,
To say the lady's heart was found so stout,
She let them sigh their precious hours away,
And scarcely seemed emotion to betray.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - VIII
© Ezra Pound
Io mooed the first years with averted head,
And now drinks Nile water like a god,
Ino in her young days fled pellmell out of Thebes,
Andromeda was offered to a sea-serpent
and respectably married to Perseus,
Ceux qui vivent, ce sont ceux qui luttent
© Victor Marie Hugo
Ceux qui vivent, ce sont ceux qui luttent ; ce sont
Ceux dont un dessein ferme emplit l'âme et le front.
Ceux qui d'un haut destin gravissent l'âpre cime.
Ceux qui marchent pensifs, épris d'un but sublime.
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
Gentle Alice Brown
© William Schwenck Gilbert
It was a robber's daughter, and her name was ALICE BROWN,
Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;
Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing;
But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter I - The Ring And The Book
© Robert Browning
DO you see this Ring?
Tis Rome-work, made to match
Mary Lemaine
© Henry Lawson
She heard a few words, but those words were enough
The troopers were all on the track of Jim Duff.
The super, his rival, was planning a trap
To capture the scamp in Maginniss Gap.
Ive warned him before, and Ill do it again;
Ill save him to-night, whispered Mary Lemaine.
The Cloud Messenger - Part 01
© Kalidasa
A certain yaksha who had been negligent in the execution of his own duties,
on account of a curse from his master which was to be endured for a year and
which was onerous as it separated him from his beloved, made his residence
among the hermitages of Ramagiri, whose waters were blessed by the bathing
of the daughter of Janaka1 and whose shade trees grew in profusion.
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book IV - Dyuta - (The Fatal Dice)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The madness increased, and Yudhishthir staked his brothers, and then
himself, and then the fair Draupadi, and lost! And thus the Emperor
of Indra-prastha and his family were deprived of every possession
on earth, and became the bond-slaves of Duryodhan. The old king
Dhrita-rashtra released them from actual slavery, but the five
brothers retired to forests as homeless exiles.
To A Friend Writing On Cabaret Dancers
© Ezra Pound
Good Hedgethorn', for we'll anglicize your name
Until the last slut's hanged and the last pig disembowelled,
Seeing your wife is charming and your child
Sings in the open meadow at least the kodak says so
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Fourth
© William Wordsworth
'Tis night: in silence looking down,
The Moon, from cloudless ether, sees
A Camp, and a beleaguered Town,
And Castle, like a stately crown
La Jeune Captive
© André Marie de Chénier
'L'épi naissant mûrit de la faux respecté;
Sans crainte du pressoir, le pampre tout l'été
Boit les doux présents de l'aurore;
Et moi, comme lui belle, et jeune comme lui,
Quoi que l'heure présente ait de trouble et d'ennui,
Je ne veux point mourir encore.
The Disciple
© George MacDonald
The times are changed, and gone the day
When the high heavenly land,
Though unbeheld, quite near them lay,
And men could understand.
Metamorphoses: Book The Sixth
© Ovid
The End of the Sixth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Hermann And Dorothea - II. Terpsichore
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is
My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter
I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."
