Strength poems
/ page 61 of 186 /Georgic 2
© Publius Vergilius Maro
Thus far the tilth of fields and stars of heaven;
Now will I sing thee, Bacchus, and, with thee,
An Out-Worn Sappho
© James Whitcomb Riley
How tired I am! I sink down all alone
Here by the wayside of the Present. Lo,
For A Picture Of Rossetti
© Arthur Symons
Smoke of battle lifts and lies
Sullen in her smouldering eyes,
Where are seen
Captive bales of merchandise.
The Lady Of The Hills
© Madison Julius Cawein
Though red my blood hath left its trail
For five far miles, I shall not fail,
Sampson's Lion
© John Newton
The lion that on Sampson roared,
And thirsted for his blood;
With honey afterwards was stored,
And furnished him with food.
Come Back
© Henry William Herbert
COME back and bring my life again
That went with thee beyond my will!
Pippa Passes: Part III: Evening
© Robert Browning
Mother
If there blew wind, you'd hear a long sigh, easing
The utmost heaviness of music's heart.
The Death-Raven (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger)
© George Borrow
"The wealthy bird came towering,
Came scowering,
O'er hill and stream.
'Look here, look here, thou needy bird,
How gay my feathers gleam.'
The Anvil
© Rudyard Kipling
There shall be one people-it shall serve one Lord-
(Neither Priest nor Baron shall escape!)
It shall have one speech and law, soul and strength and sword.
England's being hammered, hammered, hammered into shape!
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXVI
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Youth is all valiant. He and I together,
Conscious of strength, and unreproved of wrong,
Strained at the world's conventions as a tether
Too weak to bind us, and burst forth in song.
An Ode - In Imitation of Horace, Book III. Ode II.
© Matthew Prior
How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie
In the lethargic sleep, the sad repose
Mr. Edwards and the Spider
© Robert Lowell
I saw the spiders marching through the air,
Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed day
Laodamia
© William Wordsworth
O terror! what hath she perceived?-O joy!
What doth she look on?-whom doth she behold?
Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy?
His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
It is-if sense deceive her not-'tis He!
And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!
The Way To Happiness
© Thomas Parnell
How long ye miserable blind
Shall idle dreams engage your mind,
Message From Abroad
© Allen Tate
Paris, November 1929
Their faces are bony and sharp but very red, although
their ancestors nearly two hundred years have dwelt
by the miasmal banks of tidewaters where malarial fever
makes men gaunt and dosing with quinine shakes them
as with a palsy. Traveller to America (1799).
A Blessing
© Swami Vivekananda
The Mother's heart, the hero's will,
The softest flowers' sweetest feel;
Marmion: Introduction to Canto I
© Sir Walter Scott
November's sky is chill and drear,
November's leaf is red and sear:
I Am Standing Upon The Seashore.
© Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
For A' That And A' That
© Sir Walter Scott
For on the land, or on the sea,
Where'er the breezes blaw that,
The British flag shall bear the grie,
And win the day for a' that!