Strength poems

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186

Somebody Else

© Edgar Albert Guest

Somebody wants a new bonnet to wear;

Somebody wants a new dress;

YES! the vacant chairs tell sadly we are going, going fast,
And the thought comes strangely o'er me, who will live to be the last?
When the twentieth century's sunbeams climb the far-off eastern hill,
With his ninety winters burdened, will he greet the morning still?

Glorious France

© Edgar Lee Masters

You have become a forge of snow-white fire,

A crucible of molten steel, O France!

God Defend New Zealand

© Thomas Bracken

O Lord, God,

of nations and of us too

An Epistle To William Hogarth

© Charles Churchill

Amongst the sons of men how few are known

Who dare be just to merit not their own!

Quatrains

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

With beams December planets dart
His cold eye truth and conduct scanned,
July was in his sunny heart,
October in his liberal hand.

At the Long Sault: May, 1660

© Archibald Lampman

All night by the foot of the mountain
The little town lieth at rest,
The sentries are peacefully pacing;
And neither from East nor from West

Pharsalia - Book V: The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm

© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus

While soldier thus and chief,
In doubtful sort, against their hidden fate
Devised their counsel, Appius alone
Feared for the chances of the war, and sought
Through Phoebus' ancient oracle to break
The silence of the gods and know the end.

The Deeds That Might Have Been

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

All these are pitiful. Yet, after tears,
Come rest and sleep and calm forgetfulness,
And God's good providence consoles the years.
Only the coward heart which did not guess,
The dreamer of brave deeds that might have been,
Shall cureless ache with wounds for ever green.

Abrahams Sacrifice

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The noontide sun streamed brightly down
Moriahs mountain crest,
The golden blaze of his vivid rays
Tinged sacred Jordans breast;
While towering palms and flowerets sweet,
Drooped low neath Syrias burning heat.

I Have A Rendezvous With Life

© Countee Cullen

I have a rendezvous with Life,

In days I hope will come,

In Collins Street

© George Essex Evans

I stood in the heart of the city street,

I felt the throb of her pulses beat,

Mons Angelorum

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

Joshua O father of my soul, I cannot tell.
The burden of the Lord is heavy on me,
And I am broken beneath it.

The Stranger's Friend

© Henry Lawson

It is true to the region of adjectives when I say that the spree was grim,
For to go on the spree was a sacred rite, or a heathen rite, to him,
To shout for the travellers passing through to the land where the lost soul bakes
Till they all seemed devils of different breeds, and his pockets were filled with snakes.

Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Dialogue II.

© John Kenyon

A.
By no faint shame withheld from general gaze,
'Tis thus, my friend, we bask us in the blaze;
Where deeds, more surface-smooth than inly bright,
Snatch up a transient lustre from the light.

Our Country

WE give thy natal day to hope,
O Country of our love and prayer!
Thy way is down no fatal slope,
But up to freer sun and air.

Train Journey

Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,

out of the confused hammering dark of the train

Written Out [1]

© Henry Lawson

Sing the song of the reckless, who care not what they do;
Sing the song of a sinner and the song of a writer, too
Down in a pub in the alleys, in a dark and dirty hole,
With every soul a drunkard and the boss with never a soul.