Power poems
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The Letter of Cupid
© Thomas Hoccleve
Hir wordes spoken been so sighingly
And with so pitous cheere and contenance,
That every wight that meeneth trewely
Deemeth that they in herte han swich greuance.
They sayn so importable is hir penance
On Cutting Down The Thorn At Market-Hill
© Jonathan Swift
At Market-Hill, as well appears
By chronicle of ancient date,
There stood for many hundred years
A spacious thorn before the gate.
Sixth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
When bitter thoughts, of conscience born,
With sinners wake at morn,
The New Zealot To The Sun
© Herman Melville
Persian, you rise
Aflame from climes of sacrifice
Where adulators sue,
And prostrate man, with brow abased,
Adheres to rites whose tenor traced
All worship hitherto.
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Fatigue
© Amy Lowell
Give me dreamless sleep, and loose night's power over me,
Shut my ears to sounds only tumultuous then,
Bid Fancy slumber, and steal away its potency,
Or Nature wakes and strives to live again.
Stanzas
© George Gordon Byron
Could Love for ever
Run like a river,
And Time's endeavour
Be tried in vain
Seven Poems
© John Masefield
VI
I went into the fields, but you were there
Waiting for me, so all the summer flowers
Were only glimpses of your starry powers;
Beautiful and inspired dust they were.
In The Marble Quarry
© James Dickey
Beginning to dangle beneath
The wind that blows from the undermined wood,
I feel the great pulley grind,
The Brothers
© Madison Julius Cawein
Not far from here, it lies beyond
That low-hilled belt of woods. We'll take
This unused lane where brambles make
A wall of twilight, and the blond
Brier-roses pelt the path and flake
The margin waters of a pond.
The Tower Beyond Tragedy
© Robinson Jeffers
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
Linnet-Like.
© Robert Crawford
The joy of God gets into us, and we
Hum with the intuition of His power;
Even as a linnet, like a thing inspired,
Throats his love-lyrics in the dewy leaves.
Lines To A Steamboat
© George MacDonald
Dark stranger on the teeming map of fate
Fabric, that seemst a thing alike apart
From aught that nature or that art create;
To me a mystery thou ever art;
And awe and wonder stir me when thy frame
I view, strange birth of water and of flame.
Love Elegy, to Laura
© Amelia Opie
Too heedless friend, why thus augment the flame
That glows resistless in my beating breast?
Why with thy praises grace his fatal name,
Who robs thy Emma's hapless heart of rest?
Latter-Day Warnings
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHEN legislators keep the law,
When banks dispense with bolts and looks,
When berries--whortle, rasp, and straw--
Grow bigger downwards through the box,--
A Thanksgiving For F. D. Maurice
© George MacDonald
The veil hath lifted and hath fallen; and him
Who next it stood before us, first so long,
We see not; but between the cherubim
The light burns clearer: come-a thankful song!
Tale II
© George Crabbe
frame.
Yes! old and grieved, and trembling with decay,
Was Allen landing in his native bay,
Willing his breathless form should blend with
The Spanish Dancer
© Rainer Maria Rilke
As on all its sides a kitchen-match darts white
flickering tongues before it bursts into flame:
with the audience around her, quickened, hot,
her dance begins to flicker in the dark room.
