History poems
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Caravaggio: Swirl & Vortex
© Larry Levis
In the Borghese, Caravaggio, painter of boy whores, street punk, exile & murderer,
Left behind his own face in the decapitated, swollen, leaden-eyed head of Goliath,
And left the eyelids slightly open, & left on the face of David a look of pity
In Memoriam A. H. H.
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou.
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
The Junipers
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Gray the slow sky darkens
Over the downland track
Where the long valley closes
Under a smooth hill's back.
Edward Everett
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WINTER'S cold drift lies glistening o'er his breast;
For him no spring shall bid the leaf unfold
What Love could speak, by sudden grief oppressed,
What swiftly summoned Memory tell, is told.
The Telegram
© Thomas Hardy
'O He's suffering - maybe dying - and I not there to aid,
And smooth his bed and whisper to him! Can I nohow go?
Only the nurse's brief twelve words thus hurriedly conveyed,
As by stealth, to let me know.
The Dance To Death. Act II
© Emma Lazarus
LANDGRAVE.
Who tells thee of my son's love for the Jewess?
Bomb
© Gregory Corso
Budger of history Brake of time You Bomb
Toy of universe Grandest of all snatched sky I cannot hate you
Vestigia Quinque Retrorsum
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
This is our golden year,--its golden day;
Its bridal memories soon must pass away;
Soon shall its dying music cease to ring,
And every year must loose some silver string,
Till the last trembling chords no longer thrill,--
Hands all at rest and hearts forever still.
Sonnet XXIII. Beethovens Fifth Symphony.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
THE mind's deep history here in tones is wrought,
The faith, the struggles of the aspiring soul,
The confidence of youth, the chill control
Of manhood's doubts by stern experience taught;
A Birthday Present
© Sylvia Plath
What is this, behind this veil, is it ugly, is it beautiful?
It is shimmering, has it breasts, has it edges?
ER ZAGRIFIZZIO D'ABBRAMO I (Abraham's Sacrifice 1)
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
La Bibbia, ch'è una spece d'un'istoria,
Dice che ttra la prima e ssiconn'arca
Abbramo vorze fà da bon patriarca
N'ojocaustico a Dio sur Montemoria.
Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh
© Ovid
The End of the Seventh Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Ronsard To His Mistress
© William Makepeace Thackeray
"Quand vous serez bien vielle, le soir a la chandelle
Assise aupres du feu devisant et filant,
Direz, chantant mes vers en vous esmerveillant,
Ronsard m'a celebre du temps que j'etois belle."
Tale XI
© George Crabbe
creed;
And those of stronger minds should never speak
(In his opinion) what might hurt the weak:
A man may smile, but still he should attend
His hour at church, and be the Church's friend,
What there he thinks conceal, and what he hears
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Lycabettus
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Lycabett at every steep street's ending
Is there
Surprising the eyes, and ascending
Aloof, pointed bare
