Work poems
/ page 206 of 355 /
To Mr. Pope
© Thomas Parnell
To praise, and still with just respect to praise
A Bard triumphant in immortal bays,
The Learn'd to show, the Sensible commend,
Yet still preserve the province of the Friend,
What life, what vigour must the lines require?
What Music tune them, what affection fire?
Haverhill
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O river winding to the sea!
We call the old time back to thee;
From forest paths and water-ways
The century-woven veil we raise.
The Bridal of the Year
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Yes! the Summer is returning,
Warmer, brighter beams are burning
Fæsulan Idyl
© Heather Fuller
She drew back
The boon she tendered, and then, finding not
The ribbon at her waist to fix it in,
Dropt it, as loth to drop it, on the rest.
A Legend of Service
© Henry Van Dyke
It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!)
To hear, one day, report from those who came
Ode to Duty
© André Breton
Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eo perductus, ut non tantum recte facere possim, sed nisi recte facere non possim"
"I am no longer good through deliberate intent, but by long habit have reached a point where I am not only able to do right, but am unable to do anything but what is right."
(Seneca, Letters 120.10)
Adelaide Ironside.
© James Brunton Stephens
(Australian Painter. Born at Sydney, 17th November, 1831. Died at
Rome, 15th November, 1867.)
[GUARDIAN ANGEL.]
Onn John A Dalbenie
© Thomas Chatterton
Johne makes a jarre 'boute
Lancaster and Yorke.
Bee stille gode manne,
and learne to mynde thie worke.
Cassandra Southwick
© John Greenleaf Whittier
To the God of all sure mercies let my blessing rise today,
From the scoffer and the cruel He hath plucked the spoil away;
Yes, he who cooled the furnace around the faithful three,
And tamed the Chaldean lions, hath set His handmaid free!
The Past Was Goodly Once
© William Ernest Henley
The Past was goodly once, and yet, when all is said,
The best of it we know is that it's done and dead.
Beowulf
© Charles Baudelaire
LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
The Rope-Maker
© Emile Verhaeren
Of old--as one in sleep, life, errant, strayed
Its wondrous morns and fabled evenings through;
When God's right hand toward far Canaan's blue
Traced golden paths, deep in the twilight shade.
As I Ebb’d with the Ocean of Life
© Walt Whitman
I perceive I have not really understood any thing, not a single object, and that no man ever can,
Nature here in sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart upon me and sting me,
Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all.
Honours -- Part II.
© Jean Ingelow
As one who, journeying, checks the rein in haste
Because a chasm doth yawn across his way
Too wide for leaping, and too steeply faced
For climber to essay-
The Safecracker
© Linda Pastan
On nights when the moon seems impenetrable—
a locked porthole to space;
Corsons Inlet
© Archie Randolph Ammons
I went for a walk over the dunes again this morning
to the sea,
then turned right along
the surf
rounded a naked headland
and returned
The Baby
© Ezra Pound
The baby new to earth and sky
Has never until now
Unto himself the question put
Or asked us if the cow
