Experience poems
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The Ring And The Book - Chapter III - The Other Half-Rome
© Robert Browning
ANOTHER DAY that finds her living yet,
Little Pompilia, with the patient brow
The Art Of War. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
The season form'd to fan more pleasing fires,
Parent of blooming hopes and young desires,
When smiling Graces every flower combine,
The blooming wreaths of Love and Peace to twine,
Tempts only now to scenes of blood and death
The daring Warrior urg'd by Glory's breath.
The Parish Register - Part III: Burials
© George Crabbe
drown'd.
"Is this a landsman's love? Be certain then,
"We part for ever!"--and they cried, "Amen!"
His words were truth's:- Some forty summers
An Athenian Reverie
© Archibald Lampman
How the returning days, one after one,
Came ever in their rhythmic round, unchanged,
The Two desires
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What is the spirit's desire,
Sprung, springing, singing,
Fountain--fresh, rainbowed over with lights that awaken
The inner dishevelled crystal, starrily shaken
A Dandelion for My Mother by Jean Nordhaus: American Life in Poetry #131 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laure
© Ted Kooser
Sometimes beginning writers tell me they get discouraged because it seems that everything has already been written about. But every experience, however commonplace, is unique to he or she who seizes it. There have undoubtedly been many poems about how dandelions pass from yellow to wind-borne gossamer, but this one by the Maryland poet, Jean Nordhaus, offers an experience that was unique to her and is a gift to us.
Black Mousquetaire: A Legend Of France
© Richard Harris Barham
No triumphs flush that haughty brow,-
No proud exulting look is there,-
His eagle glance is humbled now,
As, earthward bent, in anxious care
It seeks the form whose stalwart pride
But yester-morn was by his side!
Book Fourth [Summer Vacation]
© William Wordsworth
BRIGHT was the summer's noon when quickening steps
Followed each other till a dreary moor
Farewell And Defiance To Love
© John Clare
Love and thy vain employs, away
From this too oft deluded breast!
Paradise Regain'd : Book III.
© John Milton
So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinced
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift;
The Task: Book III. -- The Garden
© William Cowper
As one who, long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled, winds now this way and now that
To My Old Readers
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Nor be forgotten our ANNEXES twain,
Nor HE, the owner of the squinting brain,
Which, while its curious fancies we pursue,
Oft makes us question, "Are we crack-brained too?"
Under The Old Elm
© James Russell Lowell
Placid completeness, life without a fall
From faith or highest aims, truth's breachless wall,
Surely if any fame can bear the touch,
His will say 'Here!' at the last trumpet's call,
The unexpressive man whose life expressed so much.
Free Fantasia On Japanese Themes
© Amy Lowell
Still, but alert;
And my heart is still and alert,
Passive with sunshine,
Avid of adventure.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - VIII
© Ezra Pound
Io mooed the first years with averted head,
And now drinks Nile water like a god,
Ino in her young days fled pellmell out of Thebes,
Andromeda was offered to a sea-serpent
and respectably married to Perseus,
Book Tenth {Residence in France continued]
© William Wordsworth
IT was a beautiful and silent day
That overspread the countenance of earth,
Alfred. Book III.
© Henry James Pye
Fix'd on the arid spot, whose scanty bounds
On every side the deep morass surrounds,
The monarch, and his martial friend, with care,
'Gainst close surprise and bold attack prepare;
Exert each art their safety to ensure,
And every pass, with wary eye, secure.
The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy
© Richard Harris Barham
With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'
Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
© Henry King
TELL me no more how fair she is,
I have no minde to hear
At the Choral Concert by Tim Nolan : American Life in Poetry #248 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 200
© Ted Kooser
Many if not all of us have had the pleasure of watching choruses of young people sing. It’s an experience rich with affirmation, it seems to me. Here is a lovely poem by Tim Nolan, an attorney in Minneapolis.
At the Choral Concert
The high school kids are so beautiful
