My Life Has Been the Poem
My life has been the poem I would have writ,
But I could not both live and utter it.By: Henry David Thoreau
Poetry
My Star ~ Poem by Robert Browning
My Star
All that I know
Of a certain star
Is, it can throw
(Like the angled spar)
Now a dart of red,
Now a dart of blue;
Till my friends have said
They would fain see, too,
My star that dartless the red and the blue!
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower hangs furled:
They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.
What matter to me if their star is a world?
Mine has opened its soul to me, therefore I love it– Robert Browning
Almost ~ Poem by Emily Dickinson
ALMOST!
by Emily Dickinson
Within my reach!
I could have touched!
I might have chanced that way!
Soft sauntered through the village,
Sauntered as soft away!
So unsuspected violets
Within the fields lie low,
Too late for striving fingers
That passed, an hour ago.
Live in Joy ~ Poem by Buddha
Let us live in joy, not hating those who hate us.
Among those who hate us, we live free of hate.
Let us live in joy,
free from disease among those who are diseased.
Among those who are diseased, let us live free of disease.
Let us live in joy, free from greed among the greedy.
Among those who are greedy, we live free of greed.
Let us live in joy, though we possess nothing.
Let us live feeding on joy, like the bright gods.Lord Buddha
Prometheus Unbound ~ Poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Prometheus Unbound
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;
To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent; This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free; This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.
Alone Looking at the Mountain ~ Poem by Li Po
All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other –
Only the mountain and I.
Li Po
I Shall Keep Singing ~ Poem by Emily Dickinson
I Shall Keep Singing
I shall keep singing!
I shall keep singing!
Birds will pass me
On their way to Yellower Climes –
Each — with a Robin’s expectation –
I — with my Redbreast –
And my Rhymes –
Late — when I take my place in summer –
But — I shall bring a fuller tune –
Vespers — are sweeter than Matins — Signor –
Morning — only the seed of Noon –
By: Emily Dickinson
Love is Enough ~ Poem by William Morris
Love is Enough
Love is enough: though the world be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the skies be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter:
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.
William Morris
The Divine Image ~ Poem by William Blake
The Divine Image
by William Blake
To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.
And all must love the human form,
In heathen, turk, or jew;
Where Mercy, Love, & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.
A Thing of Beauty ~ Poem by John Keats
A Thing of Beauty
by John Keats
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkn’d ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
‘Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.
