God poems
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Sonnet VIII
© Robert Louis Stevenson
As Daniel, bird-alone, in that far land,
Kneeling in fervent prayer, with heart-sick eyes
Turned thro' the casement toward the westering skies;
Or as untamed Elijah, that red brand
O Dull Cold Northern Sky
© Robert Louis Stevenson
O DULL cold northern sky,
O brawling sabbath bells,
O feebly twittering Autumn bird that tells
The year is like to die!
I Now, O Friend, Whom Noiselessly The Snows
© Robert Louis Stevenson
I NOW, O friend, whom noiselessly the snows
Settle around, and whose small chamber grows
Dusk as the sloping window takes its load:
Had I The Power That Have The Will
© Robert Louis Stevenson
HAD I the power that have the will,
The enfeebled will - a modern curse -
This book of mine should blossom still
A perfect garden-ground of verse.
Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music
© John Dryden
Now strike the golden lyre again:
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain!
Break his bands of sleep asunder
The Medal
© John Dryden
Thus inborn broils the factions would engage,
Or wars of exiled heirs, or foreign rage,
Till halting vengeance overtook our age,
And our wild labours, wearied into rest,
Reclined us on a rightful monarch's breast.
An Ode, On The Death Of Mr. Henry Purcell
© John Dryden
Late Servant to his Majesty, and
Organist of the Chapel Royal, and
of St. Peter's Westminster
Absalom And Achitophel
© John Dryden
Him staggering so when Hell's dire agent found,
While fainting virtue scarce maintain'd her ground,
He pours fresh forces in, and thus replies:
Mac Flecknoe
© John Dryden
All human things are subject to decay,
And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey:
This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young
Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long:
Completion
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When I shall meet Gods generous dispensers
Of all the riches in the heavenly store,
Those lesser gods, who act as Recompensers
For loneliness and loss upon this shore,
Custer
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
BOOK FIRST.I.ALL valor died not on the plains of Troy.
Awake, my Muse, awake! be thine the joy
To sing of deeds as dauntless and as brave
As e'er lent luster to a warrior's grave.
Art And Love
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
For many long uninterrupted years
She was the friend and confidant of Art;
They walked together, heart communed with heart
In that sweet comradeship that so endears.
Momus, God Of Laughter
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Though with gods the world is cumbered,
Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
Never god was known to be
Who had not his devotee.
So I dedicate to mine,
Here in verse, my temple-shrine.
A Grey Mood
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
As we hurry away to the end, my friend,
Of this sad little farce called existence,
We are sure that the future will bring one thing,
And that is the grave in the distance.
Love is Enough
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Love is enough. Let us not ask for gold.
Wealth breeds false aims, and pride and selfishness;
In those serene, Arcadian days of old
Men gave no thought to princely homes and dress.
The River Scamander
© Jean de La Fontaine
O TROY! for me thy very name has got
Superior charms:--in story fruitful spot;
Thy famed remains I ne'er can hope to view,
That gods by labour raised, and gods o'erthrew;
Those fields where daring acts of valour shone;
So many fights were lost:--so many won.
The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba
© Jean de La Fontaine
WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.
The Picture
© Jean de La Fontaine
CATULLUS tells us, ev'ry matron sage
Will peep most willingly (whate'er her age),
At that gigantick gift, which Juno made,
To Venus' fruit, in gardens oft displayed.
If any belle recede, and shun the sight,
Dissimulation she supposes right.
The Impossible Thing
© Jean de La Fontaine
ONE morn the devil to the other went:
Said he, to give thee up I'll be content;
If solely thou wilt openly declare
What 'tis I hold, for truly I despair;
I'm victus I confess, and can't succeed:
No doubt the thing's impossible decreed.
The Falcon
© Jean de La Fontaine
I RECOLLECT, that lately much I blamed,
The sort of lover, avaricious named;
And if in opposites we reason see,
The liberal in paradise should be.
The rule is just and, with the warmest zeal,
To prove the fact I to the CHURCH appeal.
