Work poems
/ page 67 of 355 /The Departure Of St. Patrick From Scotland
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Twice to your son already has the hand of God been shewn,
Restoring him from alien bonds to be once more your own,
And now it is the self--same hand, dear kinsmen, that to--day
Shall take me for the third time from all I love away.
The Ballad Of The Solemn Ass
© Henry Van Dyke
Recited at the Century Club, New York: Twelfth Night. 1906
Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times,
Satyr VIII. The Picture Of Time
© Thomas Parnell
Methinkes the picture thus instructs my mind
Our hours are fleeting & the last assignd
Soon will it Come too soon alas for most
& all the time we use not well is lost
Light
© George MacDonald
Dull horrid pools no motion making!
No bubble on the surface breaking!
The dead air lies, without a sound,
Heavy and moveless on the marshy ground.
Scenes From The Faust Of Goethe
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
CHORUS:
Thy countenance gives the Angels strength,
Though none can comprehend Thee:
And all Thy lofty works
Are excellent as at the first day.
Tale XIV
© George Crabbe
dwell,
While he was acting (he would call it) well;
He bought as others buy, he sold as others sell;
There was no fraud, and he demanded cause
Why he was troubled when he kept the laws?"
"My laws!" said Conscience. "What," said he, "
The Birds Of Cirencester
© Francis Bret Harte
Did I ever tell you, my dears, the way
That the birds of Cisseter--"Cisseter!" eh?
Thomas Starr King
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The great work laid upon his twoscore years
Is done, and well done. If we drop our tears,
Flower-De-Luce: Palingenesis
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I lay upon the headland-height, and listened
To the incessant sobbing of the sea
In caverns under me,
And watched the waves, that tossed and fled and glistened,
Until the rolling meadows of amethyst
Melted away in mist.
Protogenes And Apelles
© Matthew Prior
She said; and to his hand restored
The rival pledge, the missive board.
Upon the happy line were laid
Such obvious light and easy shade,
That Paris' apple stood confest,
Or Leda's egg, or Cloe's breast.
Extracts From Leon. An Unfinished Poem
© Joseph Rodman Drake
It is an eve that drops a heavenly balm,
To lull the feelings to a sober calm,
To bid wild passion's fiery flush depart;
And smooth the troubled waters of the heart;
To give a tranquil fixedness to grief,
A cherished gloom, that wishes not relief.
On A Fork of Byron's.
© James Brunton Stephens
LIKE any other fork. No mark you meet with
To point some psychological conceit with.
Bending The Bow
© Robert Duncan
You stand behind the where-I-am.
The deep tones and shadows I will call a woman.
The quick high notes... You are a girl there too,
having something of sister and of wife,
inconsolate,
and I would play Orpheus for you again,
The Art Of War. Book IV.
© Henry James Pye
Marseilles secur'd by many a strengthen'd tower
Mock'd dauntless Cæsar and his veteran power;
Wearied at length, but sure of fortune's aid,
He bid the sea their floating works invade.
Thus check'd the siege long, bloody, and severe,
Of Rome's experienced chiefs the bold career.
A Castaway
© Augusta Davies Webster
So long since:
and now it seems a jest to talk of me
as if I could be one with her, of me
who am…… me.
Garrison
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE storm and peril overpast,
The hounding hatred shamed and still,
Go, soul of freedom! take at last
The place which thou alone canst fill.
On The Truth Of The Saviour
© George Moses Horton
E'en John the Baptist did not know
Who Christ the Lord could be,
And bade his own disciples go
The strange event to see.