Work poems
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The Pierrot Of The Minute
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
_A glade in the Parc due Petit Trianon. In the centre a Doric temple with
steps coming down the stage. On the left a little Cupid on a pedestal.
Twilight._
After All Is Said And Done
© Edgar Albert Guest
AFTER all is said and done,
After all the work and fun,
In Egypt.
© Robert Crawford
Speak softly, wake her not! We all must die.
This is a sleep that wraps her in secure
From Caesar's luck. Yet is that veiny bosom
Warm where now love's despair wrought life's undoing,
The Ballad of the Elder Son
© Henry Lawson
A son of elder sons I am,
Whose boyhood days were cramped and scant,
The Task: Book V. -- The Winter Morning Walk
© William Cowper
Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds,
Morning
© John Keble
Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible
Around his path are taught to swell; -
What My Father Left Behind by Chris Forhan: American Life in Poetry #200 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laure
© Ted Kooser
Here's a fine poem by Chris Forhan of Indiana, about surviving the loss of a parent, and which celebrates the lives that survive it, that go on. I especially like the parachute floating up and away, just as the lost father has gone up and away.
What My Father Left Behind
Jam jar of cigarette ends and ashes on his workbench,
hammer he nailed our address to a stump with,
balsa wood steamship, half-finishedâ
Aurora Leigh: Book Three
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
"To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee," said the Lord, "to go
Where thou wouldst not." He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downward.
The Reward
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Who, looking backward from his manhood's prime,
Sees not the spectre of his misspent time?
And, through the shade
Of funeral cypress planted thick behind,
Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind
From his loved dead?
Sordello: Book the Second
© Robert Browning
What next? The curtains see
Dividing! She is there; and presently
He will be there-the proper You, at length-
In your own cherished dress of grace and strength:
Most like, the very Boniface!
Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
© Samuel Butler
Next him his Son and Heir Apparent
Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent;
Who first laid by the Parliament,
The only crutch on which he leant;
And then sunk underneath the State,
That rode him above horseman's weight.
The Execution Of Montrose
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
COME hither, Evan Cameron!
Come, stand beside my knee:
The Voice And Pen
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Oh! the orator's voice is a mighty power,
As it echoes from shore to shore,
And the fearless pen has more sway o'er men
Than the murderous cannon's roar!
The Clearer Self
© Archibald Lampman
Before me grew the human soul,
And after I am dead and gone,
Through grades of effort and control
The marvellous work shall still go on.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. Prelude; The Wayside Inn
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn
Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves
Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves
Their crimson curtains rent and thin.
Olney Hymn 25: Jehovah Jesus
© William Cowper
My song shall bless the Lord of all,
My praise shall climb to His abode;
Thee, Saviour, by that name I call,
The great Supreme, the mighty God.
