Strength poems

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Seashore

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

I heard or seemed to hear the chiding Sea

Say, Pilgrim, why so late and slow to come?

Vidrik Verlandson (From The Old Danish)

© George Borrow

King Diderik sits in the halls of Bern,
And he boasts of his deeds of might;
So many a swain in battle hes felld,
And taken so many a knight.

Astrophel And Stella-Tenth Song

© Sir Philip Sidney

Oh dear life, when shall it be
That mine eyes thine eyes may see?
And in them thy mind discover,
Whether absence have had force
Thy remembrance to divorce
From the image of thy lover?

The Late W. V. Wild, Esq.

© Henry Kendall

SAD FACES came round, and I dreamily said

Though the harp of my country now slumbers,

On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The Bay Of Scanctacruze, In The Island Of teneriff.1657

© Andrew Marvell

Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold,
Leaves the new World and hastens for the old:
But though the wind was fair, the slowly swoome
Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:

The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C.

© Andrew Marvell

Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise;
So Man, declining alwayes, disappears.
In the Weak Circles of increasing Years;

Sordello: Book the Fourth

© Robert Browning

Meantime Ferrara lay in rueful case;

The lady-city, for whose sole embrace

An Inscription - For Stratfield Saye

© Samuel Rogers

These are the groves a grateful people gave
For noblest service; and from age to age,
May they, to such as come with listening ear,
Relate the story! Sacred is their shade;

The Peak's proud height the Spaniards all admire,
Yet in their breasts carry a pride much high'r.
Only to this vast hill a power is given,
At once both to inhabit earth and heaven.
But this stupendous prospect did not near,
Make them admire, so much as they did fear.

Last Instructions to a Painter

© Andrew Marvell

Here, Painter, rest a little, and survey
With what small arts the public game they play.
For so too Rubens, with affairs of state,
His labouring pencil oft would recreate.

Wilfred

© John Le Gay Brereton

What of these tender feet
That have never toddled yet?
What dances shall they beat,
With what red vintage wet?
In what wild way will they march or stray, by what sly paynims met?

Moses In The Bulrushes. A Sacred Drama

© Hannah More

Hebrew Woman.
Jochebed, Mother of Moses.
Miriam, his Sister.

The Child Of The Islands - Winter

© Caroline Norton

I.
ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!
Wild o'er the earth the sleety tempest raves;

First Anniversary

Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise,
So Man, declining always, disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years;
And his short tumults of themselves compose,
While flowing Time above his head does close.

To His Coy Mistress

Had we but World enough, and Time,
This coyness Lady were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.

The Schooner 'Flight'

4 The Flight, Passing
Blanchisseuse.

All Night

All night the knot in the shoelace
waits for its liberation,
and the match on the table packs its head
with anticipation of light.

Memorial Day

© Joyce Kilmer

"Dulce et decorum est"The bugle echoes shrill and sweet,
But not of war it sings to-day.
The road is rhythmic with the feet
Of men-at-arms who come to pray.