Strength poems
/ page 173 of 186 /
Eight O'Clock
© Alfred Edward Housman
He stood, and heard the steeple
Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town.
One, two, three, four, to market-place and people
It tossed them down.
A Shropshire Lad XIX: The time you won your town the race
© Alfred Edward Housman
The time you won your town the raceWe chaired you through the market-place;Man and boy stood cheering by,And home we brought you shoulder-high.
Underground System
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Set the foot down with distrust upon the crust of the
worldit is thin.
Moles are at work beneath us; they have tunneled the
sub-soil
Sonnets 09: Let You Not Say Of Me When I Am Old
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
In me no lenten wicks watch out the night;
I am the booth where Folly holds her fair;
Impious no less in ruin than in strength,
When I lie crumbled to the earth at length,
Let you not say, "Upon this reverend site
The righteous groaned and beat their breasts in prayer."
You Are The Mountain
© Lisa Zaran
At one end of the couch
you sit, mute as a pillow
tossed onto the upholstery.
To Minna
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Do I dream? can I trust to my eye?
My sight sure some vapor must cover?
Or, there, did my Minna pass by--
My Minna--and knew not her lover?
The Words Of Error
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Three errors there are, that forever are found
On the lips of the good, on the lips of the best;
But empty their meaning and hollow their sound--
And slight is the comfort they bring to the breast.
The fruits of existence escape from the clasp
Of the seeker who strives but those shadows to grasp--
The Sexes
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
See in the babe two loveliest flowers united--yet in truth,
While in the bud they seem the same--the virgin and the youth!
But loosened is the gentle bond, no longer side by side--
From holy shame the fiery strength will soon itself divide.
The Lay Of The Bell
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Fast, in its prison-walls of earth,
Awaits the mould of baked clay.
Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth
The bell that shall be born to-day!
The Infanticide
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Francis, O Francis! league on league shall chase thee
The shadows hurrying grimly on thy flight--
Still with their icy arms they shall embrace thee,
And mutter thunder in thy dream's delight!
The Ideals
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
And wilt thou, faithless one, then, leave me,
With all thy magic phantasy,--
With all the thoughts that joy or grieve me,
Wilt thou with all forever fly?
The Ideal And The Actual Life
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Forever fair, forever calm and bright,
Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light,
For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice--
Moons wane, and races wither to the tomb,
The Hostage
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
The tyrant Dionys to seek,
Stern Moerus with his poniard crept;
The watchful guard upon him swept;
The grim king marked his changeless cheek:
The Fortune-Favored
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Ah! happy he, upon whose birth each god
Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the bright
Idalia cradles, whose young lips the rod
Of eloquent Hermes kindles--to whose eyes,
The Fight With The Dragon
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Why run the crowd? What means the throng
That rushes fast the streets along?
Can Rhodes a prey to flames, then, be?
In crowds they gather hastily,
The Difficult Union
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Why are taste and genius so seldom met with united?
Taste of strength is afraid,--genius despises the rein.
The Dance
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
See how, like lightest waves at play, the airy dancers fleet;
And scarcely feels the floor the wings of those harmonious feet.
Ob, are they flying shadows from their native forms set free?
Or phantoms in the fairy ring that summer moonbeams see?
The Artists
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,
Upon the waning century standest thou,
In proud and noble manhood's prime,
With unlocked senses, with a spirit freed,
Punch Song (To be sung in the Northern Countries)
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
On the mountain's breezy summit,
Where the southern sunbeams shine,
Aided by their warming vigor,
Nature yields the golden wine.
Punch Song
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Four elements, joined in
Harmonious strife,
Shadow the world forth,
And typify life.
