Life poems

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A Lament

© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander

The Broussa evening fades in night;The stars appear serene and bright;Ah! would that they might shed their lightOn you and me together.

Only a Working Girl

© Joussaye Marie

I know I am only a working girl, And I am not ashamed to sayI belong to the ranks of those who toil For a living, day by day

My Prayer

© Joussaye Marie

Ye who have struggled with me in the strife, Ye who have braved the conflict, fought and bled,My comrades on the battle-field of Life, Deal with me gently after I am dead.

Labor’s Greeting

© Joussaye Marie

To His Royal Highness, the Duke of Cornwall and York.Canada, 1901

The Metamorphosed Gypsies

© Benjamin Jonson

The fairy beam upon you,The stars to glister on you; A moon of light In the noon of night,Till the fire-drake hath o'ergone you

Donne, the delight of Phoebus and each MuseWho, to thy one, all other brains refuse;Whose every work of thy most early witCame forth example, and remains so yet;Longer a-knowing than most wits do live;And which no affection praise enough can give!To it, thy language, letters, arts, best life,Which might with half mankind maintain a strife

Epigrams: Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H.

© Benjamin Jonson

Wouldst thou hear what man can sayIn a little? Reader, stay

The Vanity of Human Wishes

© Samuel Johnson

Let observation with extensive view,

London: A Poem, in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal

© Samuel Johnson

Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel,

Drury-lane Prologue Spoken by Mr. Garrick at the Opening of the Theatre in Drury-Lane, 1747

© Samuel Johnson

When Learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foesFirst rear'd the stage, immortal Shakespear rose;Each change of many-colour'd life he drew,Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new:Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,And panting Time toil'd after him in vain:His pow'rful strokes presiding Truth impress'd,And unresisted Passion storm'd the breast

Shadow River: Muskoka

© Emily Pauline Johnson

A stream of tender gladness,Of filmy sun, and opal tinted skies ;Of warm midsummer air that lightly liesIn mystic rings,Where softly swingsThe music of a thousand wingsThat almost tones to sadness.

Flint and Feather

© Emily Pauline Johnson

Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.

Brier: Good Friday

© Emily Pauline Johnson

Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm, I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.

Outcast

© Hyde Robin

I care not if from shoulder now to feetThey strip my poor rags of pretence away --Torn lace of pride that once seemed very meet,Bedraggled crest that in the lists shone gay,And, with strange darker scarlet soaking through,The soiled wet scarlet of a tattered shoe

Orchids

© Hyde Robin

Orchids, it was, she liked

The Last Gift

© Hyde Robin

I have taken so much of your beauty, oh deep kind Earth,Face on your soft old face, heart on your warm heart lying --Scent of rain in leaves and the small stream's bubble of mirth,Hush of the sad-eyed pool that is dark with night-birds' crying,

Stars drowned deep in the lake, sunset's flame in a pine,Secret clutching fingers of baby ferns, close-curled --These are a stain of scent from a cool old perfumed wineThat sleeps in a carven chalice blue-glazed in the dawn of the world