The Lyon And The Gnat

Related poetry:

1. It would have starved a Gnat It would have starved a Gnat To live so small as I And yet I was a living Child With Food’s necessity Upon me like a Claw I could no more remove Than I could coax a Leech away Or make a Dragon move Not like the Gnat had I The privilege to fly And […]...
2. Sonnet XX IN vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace, And doe myne humbled hart before her poure: The whiles her foot she in my necke doth place, And tread my life downe in the lowly floure. And yet the Lyon that is Lord of power, And reigneth ouer euery beast in field: In his […]...
3. The Man Bitten By Fleas A Peevish Fellow laid his Head On Pillows, stuff’d with Down; But was no sooner warm in Bed, With hopes to rest his Crown, But Animals of slender size, That feast on humane Gore, From secret Ambushes arise, Nor suffer him to snore; Who starts, and scrubs, and frets, and swears, ‘Till, finding all in […]...
4. The Hog, The Sheep, And Goat, Carrying To A FAIR Who does not wish, ever to judge aright, And, in the Course of Life’s Affairs, To have a quick, and far extended Sight, Tho’ it too often multiplies his Cares? And who has greater Sense, but greater Sorrow shares? This felt the Swine, now carrying to the Knife; And whilst the Lamb and silent Goat […]...
5. The Third Epigram. (On an ATHEIST) POsthumus boasts he does not Thunder fear, And for this cause would Innocent appear; That in his Soul no Terrour he does feel, At threatn’d Vultures, or Ixion’s Wheel, Which fright the Guilty: But when Fabius told What Acts ‘gainst Murder lately were enrol’d, ‘Gainst Incest, Rapine, straight upon the Tale His Colour chang’d, and […]...
6. Life's Progress How gayly is at first begun Our Life’s uncertain Race! Whilst yet that sprightly Morning Sun, With which we just set out to run Enlightens all the Place. How smiling the World’s Prospect lies How tempting to go through! Not Canaan to the Prophet’s Eyes, From Pisgah with a sweet Surprize, Did more inviting shew. […]...
7. How can you bear to look at the Neva? How can you bear to look at the Neva? How can you bear to cross the bridges?. Not in vain am I known as the grieving one Since the time you appeared to me. The black angels’ wings are sharp, Judgment Day is coming soon, And raspberry-colored bonfires bloom, Like roses, in the snow....
8. Sonnet XXXIII: Whilst Yet Mine Eyes To Imagination Whilst yet mine Eyes do surfeit with delight, My woeful Heart, imprison’d in my breast, Wisheth to be transformed to my sight, That it, like these, by looking might be blest. But whilst my Eyes thus greedily do gaze, Finding their objects over-soon depart, These now the other’s happiness do praise, Wishing themselves […]...
9. The Wind begun to rock the Grass The Wind begun to rock the Grass With threatening Tunes and low He threw a Menace at the Earth A Menace at the Sky. The Leaves unhooked themselves from Trees And started all abroad The Dust did scoop itself like Hands And threw away the Road. The Wagons quickened on the Streets The Thunder hurried […]...
10. A Pastoral Dialogue Between Two Shepherdesses [Silvia] Pretty Nymph! within this Shade, Whilst the Flocks to rest are laid, Whilst the World dissolves in Heat, Take this cool, and flow’ry Seat: And with pleasing Talk awhile Let us two the Time beguile; Tho’ thou here no Shepherd see, To encline his humble Knee, Or with melancholy Lays Sing thy dangerous Beauty’s […]...
11. Ardelia to Melancholy At last, my old inveterate foe, No opposition shalt thou know. Since I by struggling, can obtain Nothing, but encrease of pain, I will att last, no more do soe, Tho’ I confesse, I have apply’d Sweet mirth, and musick, and have try’d A thousand other arts beside, To drive thee from my darken’d breast, […]...
12. In The Forest HERE, O my heart, let us burn the dear dreams that are dead, Here in this wood let us fashion a funeral pyre Of fallen white petals and leaves that are mellow and red, Here let us burn them in noon’s flaming torches of fire. We are weary, my heart, we are weary, so long […]...
13. Sonnet XXXI Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart, Giuen so goodly giftes of beauties grace? Whose pryde depraues each other better part, And all those pretious ornaments deface. Sith to all other beastes of bloody race, A dreadfull countenaunce she giuen hath: That with theyr terrour al the rest may chace, And warne to […]...
14. Five O'Clock Shadow This is the time of day when we in the Mens’s ward Think “one more surge of the pain and I give up the fight.” Whe he who strggles for breath can struggle less strongly: This is the time of day which is worse than night. A haze of thunder hangs on the hospital rose-beds, […]...
15. La Passion Vaincue On the Banks of the Severn a desperate Maid (Whom some Shepherd, neglecting his Vows, had betray’d,) Stood resolving to banish all Sense of the Pain, And pursue, thro’ her Death, a Revenge on the Swain. Since the Gods, and my Passion, at once he defies; Since his Vanity lives, whilst my Character dies; No […]...
16. Safe Despair it is that raves Safe Despair it is that raves Agony is frugal. Puts itself severe away For its own perusal. Garrisoned no Soul can be In the Front of Trouble Love is one, not aggregate Nor is Dying double...
17. She At His Funeral THEY bear him to his resting-place In slow procession sweeping by; I follow at a stranger’s space; His kindred they, his sweetheart I. Unchanged my gown of garish dye, Though sable-sad is their attire; But they stand round with griefless eye, Whilst my regret consumes like fire!...
18. Spring Rain I thought I had forgotten, But it all came back again To-night with the first spring thunder In a rush of rain. I remembered a darkened doorway Where we stood while the storm swept by, Thunder gripping the earth And lightning scrawled on the sky. The passing motor busses swayed, For the street was a […]...
19. 439. Song-My Spouse Nancy “HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife, Nor longer idly rave, Sir; Tho’ I am your wedded wife Yet I am not your slave, Sir.” “One of two must still obey, Nancy, Nancy; Is it Man or Woman, say, My spouse Nancy?’ “If ’tis still the lordly word, Service and obedience; I’ll desert my sov’reign lord, And […]...
20. The Executor A Greedy Heir long waited to fulfill, As his Executor, a Kinsman’s Will; And to himself his Age repeated o’er, To his Infirmities still adding more; And nicely kept th’ Account of the expected Store: When Death, at last, to either gave Release, Making One’s Pains, the Other’s Longings cease: Who to the Grave must […]...
21. The Battle Heavy and solemn, A cloudy column, Through the green plain they marching came! Measure less spread, like a table dread, For the wild grim dice of the iron game. The looks are bent on the shaking ground, And the heart beats loud with a knelling sound; Swift by the breasts that must bear the brunt, […]...
22. The Unfortunate Lover Alas, how pleasant are their dayes With whom the Infant Love yet playes! Sorted by pairs, they still are seen By Fountains cool, and Shadows green. But soon these Flames do lose their light, Like Meteors of a Summers night: Nor can they to that Region climb, To make impression upon Time. ‘Twas in a […]...
23. Noe more unto my thoughts appeare NOE more unto my thoughts appeare, Att least appeare lesse fayre, For crazy tempers justly feare The goodnesse of the ayre; Whilst your pure Image hath a place 5 In my impurer Mynde, Your very shaddow is the glasse Where my defects I finde. Shall I not fly that brighter light Which makes my fyres […]...
24. RESTLESS LOVE THROUGH rain, through snow, Through tempest go! ‘Mongst streaming caves, O’er misty waves, On, on! still on! Peace, rest have flown! Sooner through sadness I’d wish to be slain, Than all the gladness Of life to sustain All the fond yearning That heart feels for heart, Only seems burning To make them both smart. How […]...
25. For the Better A Quack, to no true Skill in Physick bred, With frequent Visits cursed his Patient’s Bed; Enquiring, how he did his Broths digest, How chim’d his Pulse, and how he took his Rest: If shudd’ring Cold by Burnings was pursu’d, And at what time the Aguish Fit renew’d. The waining Wretch, each day become more […]...
26. On The Death Of Anne Bronte There’s little joy in life for me, And little terror in the grave; I’ve lived the parting hour to see Of one I would have died to save. Calmly to watch the failing breath, Wishing each sigh might be the last; Longing to see the shade of death O’er those beloved features cast; The cloud, […]...
27. The Critick and the Writer of Fables Weary, at last, of the Pindarick way, Thro’ which advent’rously the Muse wou’d stray; To Fable I descend with soft Delight, Pleas’d to Translate, or easily Endite: Whilst aery Fictions hastily repair To fill my Page, and rid my Thoughts of Care, As they to Birds and Beasts new Gifts impart, And Teach, as Poets […]...
28. Verses Observe this Piece, which to our Sight does bring The fittest Posture for the Swedish King; (Encompass’d, as we think, with Armies round, Tho’ not express’d within this narrow Bound) Who, whilst his warlike and extended Hand Directs the foremost Ranks to Charge or Stand, Reverts his Face, lest That, so Fair and Young, Should […]...
29. An EPISTLE From A Gentleman To Madam Deshouliers URANIA, whom the Town admires, Whose Wit and Beauty share our Praise; This fair URANIA who inspires A thousand Joys a thousand ways, She, who cou’d with a Glance convey Favours, that had my Hopes outdone, Has lent me Money on that Day, Which our Acquaintance first begun. Nor with the Happiness I taste, Let […]...
30. Song to the Evening Star 1 Star that bringest home the bee, 2 And sett’st the weary labourer free! 3 If any star shed peace, ’tis thou, 4 That send’st it from above, 5 Appearing when Heaven’s breath and brow 6 Are sweet as hers we love. 7 Come to the luxuriant skies 8 Whilst the landscape’s odours rise, 9 […]...
31. Beggarly Heart When the heart is hard and parched up, Come upon me with a shower of mercy. When grace is lost from life, Come with a burst of song. When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from Beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest. When […]...
32. Acon Bear me to Dictaeus, And to the steep slopes; To the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, Cyperum, frail of flower, Buds of myrrh, All-healing herbs, Close pressed in calathes. For she lies panting, Drawing sharp breath, Broken with harsh sobs. She, Hyella, Whom no god pities....
33. Psalm 101 The magistrate’s Psalm. Mercy and judgment are my song; And since they both to thee belong, My gracious God, my righteous King, To thee my songs and vows I bring. If I am raised to bear the sword, I’ll take my counsels from thy word; Thy justice and thy heav’nly grace Shall be the pattern […]...
34. To the Evening Star Star that bringest home the bee, And sett’st the weary labourer free! If any star shed peace, ’tis thou, That send ‘st it from above, Appearing when Heaven’s breath and brow Are sweet as hers we love. Come to the luxuriant skies, Whilst the landscape’s odours rise, Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard, And songs […]...
35. Rest ON me to rest, my bird, my bird: The swaying branches of my heart Are blown by every wind toward The home whereto their wings depart. Build not your nest, my bird, on me; I know no peace but ever sway: O lovely bird, be free, be free, On the wild music of the day. […]...
36. The White House Your door is shut against my tightened face, And I am sharp as steel with discontent; But I possess the courage and the grace To bear my anger proudly and unbent. The pavement slabs burn loose beneath my feet, A chafing savage, down the decent street; And passion rends my vitals as I pass, Where […]...
37. Who shall deliver me? God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bear, Inalienable weight of care. All others are outside myself; I lock my door and bar them out The turmoil, tedium, gad-about. I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all? […]...
38. The Scribe's Prayer When from my fumbling hand the tired pen falls, And in the twilight weary droops my head; While to my quiet heart a still voice calls, Calls me to join my kindred of the Dead: Grant that I may, O Lord, ere rest be mine, Write to Thy praise one radiant, ringing line. For all […]...
39. Prayer for Patience Lord, who hast suffer’d all for me, My peace and pardon to procure, The lighter cross I bear for Thee, Help me with patience to endure. The storm of loud repining hush; I would in humble silence mourn; Why should the unburnt, though burning bush, Be angry as the crackling thorn? Man should not faint […]...
40. The Appology ‘Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule I am alone forbid to play the fool To follow through the Groves a wand’ring Muse And fain’d Idea’s for my pleasures chuse Why shou’d it in my Pen be held a fault Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought Whilst Lamia to […]...