WING POEMS

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Walt Whitman

I

I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
.....

Walt Whitman
Lepanto

White founts falling in the courts of the sun,
And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run;
There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared,
It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
.....

G. K. Chesterton
Mazelli: Canto Iii

I.

With plumes to which the dewdrops cling,
Wide waves the morn her golden wing;
.....

George W. Sands
Out Of The East

When man first walked upright and soberly
Reflecting as he paced to and fro,
And no more swinging from wide tree to tree,
Or sheltered by vast boles from sheltered foe,
.....

John Freeman
The King's Pilgrimage

Our King went forth on pilgrimage
His prayers and vows to pay
To them that saved our heritage
And cast their own away.
.....

Rudyard Kipling
On The Death Of The Rev. Dr. Sewell, 1769

Ere yet the morn its lovely blushes spread,
See Sewell number'd with the happy dead.
Hail, holy man, arriv'd th' immortal shore,
Though we shall hear thy warning voice no more.
.....

Phillis Wheatley
Love In A Life

I

Room after room,
I hunt the house through
.....

Robert Browning
Love Is A Terrible Thing

I went out to the farthest meadow,
I lay down in the deepest shadow;

And I said unto the earth, “Hold me,”
.....

Grace Fallow Norton
Abd-el-kader At Toulon Or, The Caged Hawk

No more, thou lithe and long-winged hawk, of desert-life for thee;
No more across the sultry sands shalt thou go swooping free:
Blunt idle talons, idle beak, with spurning of thy chain,
Shatter against thy cage the wing thou ne'er may'st spread again.
.....

William Makepeace Thackeray
The Gift To Sing

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,
And blackening clouds about me cling;
But, oh, I have a magic way
To turn the gloom to cheerful day-
.....

James Weldon Johnson
Sonnet 15 - Accuse Me Not, Beseech Thee, That I Wear

XV

Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
.....

Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The Year’s At The Spring

The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
.....

Robert Browning
Come In

As I came to the edge of the woods,
Thrush music-hark!
Now if it was dusk outside,
Inside it was dark.
.....

Robert Frost
My Butterfly

Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Save only me
.....

Robert Frost
The Tuft Of Flowers

I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.

The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
.....

Robert Frost
Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Eton College

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers,
That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;
.....

Thomas Gray
Ode On The Pleasure Arising From Vicissitude

Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
.....

Thomas Gray
Ode On The Spring

Lo! where the rosy-bosomed Hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
.....

Thomas Gray
The Bard

“Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait!
Tho' fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,
They mock the air with idle state.
.....

Thomas Gray
The Progress Of Poesy

Awake, Æolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings.
From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take:
.....

Thomas Gray
Endymion: Book I

ENDYMION.

A Poetic Romance.

.....

John Keats
Endymion: Book Iii

There are who lord it o'er their fellow-men
With most prevailing tinsel: who unpen
Their baaing vanities, to browse away
The comfortable green and juicy hay
.....

John Keats
Endymion: Book Iv

Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
.....

John Keats
Hyperion: Book Ii

Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad place
Where Cybele and the bruised Titans mourn'd.
.....

John Keats
The Eve Of St. Agnes

St. Agnes' Eve-Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
.....

John Keats
Sonnet 051: Thus Can My Love Excuse The Slow Offence

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:
From where thou art, why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
.....

William Shakespeare
Sonnet 078: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use,
And under thee their poesy disperse.
.....

William Shakespeare
Good-night

Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.
.....

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Hymn To Intellectual Beauty

The awful shadow of some unseen Power
Floats through unseen among us,-visiting
This various world with as inconstant wing
As summer winds that creep from flower to flower,-
.....

Percy Bysshe Shelley
Song Of Myself

1
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
.....

Walt Whitman
The Eolian Harp

(Composed at Clevedon, Somersetshire)

My pensive Sara! thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
.....

Samuel Taylor Coleridge
This Lime-tree Bower My Prison

[Addressed to Charles Lamb, of the India House, London]

In the June of 1797 some long-expected friends paid a visit
to the author's cottage; and on the morning of their arrival,
.....

Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Work Without Hope

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair-
The bees are stirring-birds are on the wing-
And Winter slumbering in the open air,
Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!
.....

Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Whippoorwill

The night Silas Broughton died
neighbors at his bedside heard
a dirge rising from high limbs
in the nearby woods, and thought
.....

Ron Rash
Laodamia

Vows have I made by fruitless hope inspired;
Of night, my slaughtered Lord have I required:
Restore him to my sight-great Jove, restore!”

.....

William Wordsworth
September, 1819

Departing summer hath assumed
An aspect tenderly illumed,
The gentlest look of spring;
That calls from yonder leafy shade
.....

William Wordsworth
Song At The Feast Of Brougham Castle Upon The Restoration Of Lord Clifford, The Shepherd, To The Est

High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,
And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.-
The words of ancient time I thus translate,
A festal strain that hath been silent long:-
.....

William Wordsworth
The Power Of Armies Is A Visible Thing

The power of Armies is a visible thing,
Formal and circumscribed in time and space;
But who the limits of that power shall trace
Which a brave People into light can bring
.....

William Wordsworth
Four Quartets 1: Burnt Norton

I

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
.....

T. S. Eliot
The Hippopotamus

Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut
mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum
Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros
autem, ut concilium Dei et conjunctionem
.....

T. S. Eliot
The Waste Land

‘Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis
vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent:
Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo.'

.....

T. S. Eliot
The Return

See, they return; ah, see the tentative
Movements, and the slow feet,
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain
Wavering!
.....

Ezra Pound
Holy Sonnet I: Tho Has Made Me

Tho has made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
.....

John Donne
In The Valley Of The Elwy

I remember a house where all were good
To me, God knows, deserving no such thing:
Comforting smell breathed at very entering,
Fetched fresh, as I suppose, off some sweet wood.
.....

Gerard Manley Hopkins
The Windhover: To Christ Our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, kingdom of daylight's
dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
.....

Gerard Manley Hopkins
During Wind And Rain

They sing their dearest songs-
He, she, all of them-yea,
Treble and tenor and bass,
And one to play;
.....

Thomas Hardy
George Meredith

Forty years back, when much had place
That since has perished out of mind,
I heard that voice and saw that face.

.....

Thomas Hardy
The Convergence Of The Twain

(Lines on the loss of the “Titanic”)

I
In a solitude of the sea
.....

Thomas Hardy
The Going

Why did you give no hint that night
That quickly after the morrow's dawn,
And calmly, as if indifferent quite,
You would close your term here, up and be gone
.....

Thomas Hardy
Palinode

Strange gods occupied no space in that chaotic inflation of dark
and light,

or in the exponential expansion of a singular disturbance projecting
.....

Jocelyn Emerson
Auguries Of Innocence

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
.....

William Blake
The Fly

Little Fly
Thy summers play,
My thoughtless hand
Has brush'd away.
.....

William Blake
The School Boy

I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the sky-lark sings with me.
.....

William Blake
The Road And The End

I shall foot it
Down the roadway in the dusk,
Where shapes of hunger wander
And the fugitives of pain go by.
.....

Carl Sandburg
Troths

Yellow dust on a bumble
bee's wing,
Grey lights in a woman's
asking eyes,
.....

Carl Sandburg
Blood And The Moon

I

Blessed be this place,
More blessed still this tower;
.....

William Butler Yeats
On A Picture Of A Black Centaur By Edmund Dulac

Your hooves have stamped at the black margin of the wood,
Even where horrible green parrots call and swing.
My works are all stamped down into the sultry mud.
I knew that horse-play, knew it for a murderous thing.
.....

William Butler Yeats
On A Political Prisoner

She that but little patience knew,
From childhood on, had now so much
A grey gull lost its fear and flew
Down to her cell and there alit,
.....

William Butler Yeats
September 1913

What need you, being come to sense,
But fumble in a greasy till
And add the halfpence to the pence
And prayer to shivering prayer, until
.....

William Butler Yeats
The Countess Cathleen In Paradise

All the heavy days are over;
Leave the body's coloured pride
Underneath the grass and clover,
With the feet laid side by side.
.....

William Butler Yeats