Anger poems

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Fridolin (The Walk To The Iron Factory)

© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller

A gentle was Fridolin,
And he his mistress dear,
Savern's fair Countess, honored in
All truth and godly fear.

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Feast Of Victory

© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller

Priam's castle-walls had sunk,
Troy in dust and ashes lay,
And each Greek, with triumph drunk,
Richly laden with his prey,

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Count Eberhard, The Groaner Of Wurtembert. A War Song

© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller

Now hearken, ye who take delight
In boasting of your worth!
To many a man, to many a knight,
Beloved in peace and brave in fight,
The Swabian land gives birth.

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Endymion: Book I

© John Keats

This said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star
Through autumn mists, and took Peona's hand:
They stept into the boat, and launch'd from land.

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The Eve Of St. Agnes

© John Keats

St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:

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Hyperion

© John Keats

BOOK I Deep in the shady sadness of a vale
Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn,
Far from the fiery noon, and eve's one star,
Sat gray-hair'd Saturn, quiet as a stone,

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Ode On Melancholy

© John Keats

No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;

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To my son

© John Matthew

Don’t be a slave to the work,
Of smart slave-drivers in cubicles,
Instead explore the works of men,
Who have experienced the truths,
And distilled in their words, wisdoms,
Which may grate your ears now.

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Where Giant Mushrooms Grow!

© John Matthew

In Nevada there is a field where giant mushrooms grow
One mile high and two miles wide, they say on the show
That’s where they test how to vaporize people and flesh
By splitting and fusing atoms and start the world afresh.

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Farmer, Dying

© Richard Hugo

for Hank and NancySeven thousand acres of grass have faded yellow
from his cough. These limp days, his anger,
legend forty years from moon to Stevensville,
lives on, just barely, in a Great Falls whore.

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To My Enemy

© Lucy Maud Montgomery

Let those who will of friendship sing,
And to its guerdon grateful be,
But I a lyric garland bring
To crown thee, O, mine enemy!

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I'm Your Man

© Leonard Cohen

If you want a lover
I'll do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
I'll wear a mask for you

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The Wake

© Robert Herrick

Come, Anthea, let us two
Go to feast, as others do:
Tarts and custards, creams and cakes,
Are the junkets still at wakes;

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The Wounded Cupid

© Robert Herrick

Cupid as he lay among
Roses, by a Bee was stung.
Whereupon in anger flying
To his Mother, said thus crying;

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To The Rose: Song

© Robert Herrick

Go, happy Rose, and interwove
With other flowers, bind my Love.
Tell her, too, she must not be
Longer flowing, longer free,
That so oft has fetter'd me.

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The Four Brothers

© Carl Sandburg

MAKE war songs out of these;
Make chants that repeat and weave.
Make rhythms up to the ragtime chatter of the machine guns;
Make slow-booming psalms up to the boom of the big guns.

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After Hearing a Waltz by Bartok

© Amy Lowell

But why did I kill him? Why? Why?
In the small, gilded room, near the stair?
My ears rack and throb with his cry,
And his eyes goggle under his hair,

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Pickthorn Manor

© Amy Lowell

I
How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day! A
steely silver, underlined with blue,
And flashing where the round clouds, blown away, Let drop the

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The Great Adventure of Max Breuck

© Amy Lowell

1
A yellow band of light upon the street
Pours from an open door, and makes a wide
Pathway of bright gold across a sheet

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The Dinner-Party

© Amy Lowell

Fish
"So . . ." they said,
With their wine-glasses delicately poised,
Mocking at the thing they cannot understand.