Work poems
/ page 113 of 355 /
Of The Nature Of Things: Book II - Part 05 - Infinite Worlds
© Lucretius
Once more, we all from seed celestial spring,
To all is that same father, from whom earth,
Tale X
© George Crabbe
It is the Soul that sees: the outward eyes
Present the object, but the Mind descries;
And thence delight, disgust, or cool indiff'rence
A Fantasy of War
© Henry Lawson
The Bells and the Child.
The gongs are in the templethe bells are in the tower;
The tom-tom in the jungle and the town clock tells the hour;
And all Thy feathered kind at morn have testified Thy power.
True Nobility
© Edgar Albert Guest
Who does his task from day to day
And meets whatever comes his way,
Believing God has willed it so.
Has found real greatness here below.
To-Day
© Augusta Davies Webster
OH God, where hast thou hidden Truth? Oh Truth,
Where is the road to God?
The Princess (part 3)
© Alfred Tennyson
Morn in the wake of the morning star
Came furrowing all the orient into gold.
We rose, and each by other drest with care
Descended to the court that lay three parts
In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touched
Above the darkness from their native East.
That Great Waiting Silence
© Henry Lawson
WHERE shall we go for prophecy? Where shall we go for proof?
The holiday street is crowded, pavement, window and roof;
Band and banner pass by us, and the old tunes rise and fall
But that great waiting silence is on the people all!
Songs of the Pixies
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I.
Whom the untaught Shepherds call
Pixies in their madrigal,
Fancy's children, here we dwell:
The King's Pilgrimage
© Rudyard Kipling
Our King went forth on pilgrimage
His prayers and vows to pay
To them that saved our heritage
And cast their own away.
Caravaggio: Swirl & Vortex
© Larry Levis
In the Borghese, Caravaggio, painter of boy whores, street punk, exile & murderer,
Left behind his own face in the decapitated, swollen, leaden-eyed head of Goliath,
And left the eyelids slightly open, & left on the face of David a look of pity
An Eclogue
© Thomas Parnell
Now early shepheards ore ye meadow pass,
And print long foot-steps in the glittering grass;
The Cows unfeeding near the cottage stand,
By turns obedient to the Milkers hand,
Or loytring stretch beneath an Oaken shade,
Or lett the suckling Calf defraud the maid.
In Memoriam A. H. H.
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
A Bush Study, A La Watteau
© Arthur Patchett Martin
HE.
See the smoke-wreaths how they curl so lightly skyward
From the ivied cottage nestled in the trees:
Such a lovely spotI really feel that I would
Be happy there with children on my knees.
Charity
© William Cowper
Fairest and foremost of the train that wait
On man's most dignified and happiest state,
The Farmer's Daughter Cherry
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
The Farmer quit what he was at,
The bee-hive he was smokin':
