The Voice of Toil

Related poetry:

1. Sonnet XX: Oh! I Could Toil For Thee Oh! I could toil for thee o’er burning plains; Could smile at poverty’s disastrous blow; With thee, could wander ‘midst a world of snow, Where one long night o’er frozen Scythia reigns. Sever’d from thee, my sick’ning soul disdains The thrilling thought, the blissful dream to know, And can’st thou give my days to endless […]...
2. The Princess: A Medley: Thy Voice is Heard Thy voice is heard thro’ rolling drums, That beat to battle where he stands; Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow, He sees his brood about thy knee; The next, like fire he meets the foe, And strikes him dead for thine and […]...
3. Lift Every Voice and Sing Lift ev’ry voice and sing, Till earth and heaven ring, Ring with the harmonies of Liberty; Let our rejoicing rise High as the list’ning skies, Let it resound loud as the rolling sea. Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us, Sing a song full of the hope that […]...
4. Hear the Voice HEAR the voice of the Bard, Who present, past, and future, sees; Whose ears have heard The Holy Word That walk’d among the ancient trees; Calling the lapsed soul, And weeping in the evening dew; That might control The starry pole, And fallen, fallen light renew! ‘O Earth, O Earth, return! Arise from out the […]...
5. Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear respose for limbs with travel tirèd; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body’s work’s expirèd. For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, […]...
6. Her Voice The wild bee reels from bough to bough With his furry coat and his gauzy wing, Now in a lily-cup, and now Setting a jacinth bell a-swing, In his wandering; Sit closer love: it was here I trow I made that vow, Swore that two lives should be like one As long as the sea-gull […]...
7. A Voice From The Dungeon I’m buried now; I’ve done with life; I’ve done with hate, revenge and strife; I’ve done with joy, and hope and love And all the bustling world above. Long have I dwelt forgotten here In pining woe and dull despair; This place of solitude and gloom Must be my dungeon and my tomb. No hope, […]...
8. The peace of wild things When despair grows in me And I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the […]...
9. A Child of the Snows There is heard a hymn when the panes are dim, And never before or again, When the nights are strong with a darkness long, And the dark is alive with rain. Never we know but in sleet and in snow, The place where the great fires are, That the midst of the earth is a […]...
10. O, Were I Loved As I Desire To Be! O, were I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, Or range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear, – if I were loved by thee! All the inner, all the outer world of pain, Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou […]...
11. A Poet's Voice XV Part One The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry. My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty. Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it […]...
12. Threes I WAS a boy when I heard three red words A thousand Frenchmen died in the streets For: Liberty, Equality, Fraternity—I asked Why men die for words. I was older; men with mustaches, sideburns, Lilacs, told me the high golden words are: Mother, Home, and Heaven—other older men with Face decorations said: God, Duty, Immortality […]...
13. My Voice Within this restless, hurried, modern world We took our hearts’ full pleasure – You and I, And now the white sails of our ship are furled, And spent the lading of our argosy. Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan, For very weeping is my gladness fled, Sorrow has paled my young mouth’s vermilion, […]...
14. A Year's Burden 1870 Fire and wild light of hope and doubt and fear, Wind of swift change, and clouds and hours that veer As the storm shifts of the tempestuous year; Cry wellaway, but well befall the right. Hope sits yet hiding her war-wearied eyes, Doubt sets her forehead earthward and denies, But fear brought hand to hand […]...
15. All the Hills and Vales Along All the hills and vales along Earth is bursting into song, And the singers are the chaps Who are going to die perhaps. O sing, marching men, Till the valleys ring again. Give your gladness to earth’s keeping, So be glad, when you are sleeping. Cast away regret and rue, Think what you are marching […]...
16. The Sound of the Trees I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place? We suffer them by the day Till we lose all measure of pace, And fixity in our joys, And acquire a listening air. They are that that talks of […]...
17. To My Excellent Lucasia, On Our Friendship I did not live until this time Crown’d my felicity, When I could say without a crime, I am not thine, but thee. This carcass breath’d, and walkt, and slept, So that the world believe’d There was a soul the motions kept; But they were all deceiv’d. For as a watch by art is wound […]...
18. Sonnet XXVI: I Ever Love To Despair I ever love where never hope appears, Yet hope draws on my never-hoping care, And my life’s hope would die, but for despair; My never-certain joy breeds ever-certain fears; Uncertain dread gives wings unto my hope, Yet my hope’s wings are laden so with fear As they cannot ascend to my hope’s sphere; […]...
19. The Big Top The boom and blare of the big brass band is cheering To my heart And I like the smell of the trampled grass and elephants and hay. I take off my hat to the acrobat with his delicate, strong art, And the motley mirth of the chalk-faced clown drives all my care Away. I wish […]...
20. A Voice from the Town I thought, in the days of the droving, Of steps I might hope to retrace, To be done with the bush and the roving And settle once more in my place. With a heart that was well nigh to breaking, In the long, lonely rides on the plain, I thought of the pleasure of taking […]...
21. Little Queen Do you remember the name I wore – The old pet-name of Little Queen – In the dear, dead days that are no more, The happiest days of our lives, I ween? For we loved with that passionate love of youth That blesses but once with its perfect bliss, – A love that, in spite […]...
22. The Voice Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me, Saying that now you are not as you were When you had changed from the one who was all to me, But as at first, when our day was fair. Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then, Standing as […]...
23. Land Mine A grey gull hovered overhead, Then wisely flew away. ‘In half a jiffy you’ll be dead,’ I thought I heard it say; As there upon the railway line, Checking an urge to cough, I laboured to de-fuse the mine That had not yet gone off. I tapped around the time-clock rim, Then something worried me. […]...
24. The Voice As the kindling glances, Queen-like and clear, Which the bright moon lances From her tranquil sphere At the sleepless waters Of a lonely mere, On the wild whirling waves, mournfully, mournfully, Shiver and die. As the tears of sorrow Mothers have shed- Prayers that tomorrow Shall in vain be sped When the flower they flow […]...
25. On Julia's Voice So smooth, so sweet, so silv’ry is thy voice, As, could they hear, the Damned would make no noise, But listen to thee (walking in thy chamber) Melting melodious words to Lutes of Amber....
26. Thekla – A Spirit Voice Whither was it that my spirit wended When from thee my fleeting shadow moved? Is not now each earthly conflict ended? Say, have I not lived, have I not loved? Art thou for the nightingales inquiring Who entranced thee in the early year With their melody so joy-inspiring? Only whilst they loved they lingered here. […]...
27. Armand Barbes Fire out of heaven, a flower of perfect fire, That where the roots of life are had its root And where the fruits of time are brought forth fruit; A faith made flesh, a visible desire, That heard the yet unbreathing years respire And speech break forth of centuries that sit mute Beyond all feebler […]...
28. The Death Of Richard Wagner Mourning on earth, as when dark hours descend, Wide-winged with plagues, from heaven; when hope and mirth Wane, and no lips rebuke or reprehend Mourning on earth. The soul wherein her songs of death and birth, Darkness and light, were wont to sound and blend, Now silent, leaves the whole world less in worth. Winds […]...
29. The Shadow Voice My shadow said to me: What is the matter Isn’t the moon warm Enough for you Why do you need The blanket of another body Whose kiss is moss Around the picnic tables The bright pink hands held sandwiches Crumbled by distance. Flies crawl Over the sweet instant You know what is in these blankets […]...
30. A Requisition to the Queen Smiths Buildings No. 19 Patons Lane, Dundee. Sept the 6th. 1877. Most August! Empress of India, and of great Britain the Queen, I most humbly beg your pardon, hoping you will not think it mean That a poor poet that lives in Dundee, Would be so presumptous to write unto Thee Most lovely Empress of […]...
31. The Voice of the Waters WHERE the Greyhound River windeth through a loneliness so deep, Scarce a wild fowl shakes the quiet that the purple boglands keep, Only God exults in silence over fields no man may reap. Where the silver wave with sweetness fed the tiny lives of grass I was bent above, my image mirrored in the fleeting […]...
32. The Voice of the Lobster ”Tis the voice of the Lobster: I heard him declare ‘You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair.’ As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes. When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, […]...
33. The Voice of Robert Desnos So like a flower and a current of air The flow of water fleeting shadows The smile glimpsed at midnight this excellent evening So like every joy and every sadness It is the midnight past lifting its naked body above belfries and poplars I call to me those lost in the fields Old skeletons young […]...
34. The Voice Of The Ancient Bard Youth of delight come hither. And see the opening morn, Image of truth new born. Doubt is fled & clouds of reason. Dark disputes & artful teazing, Folly is an endless maze, Tangled roots perplex her ways, How many have fallen there! They stumble all night over bones of the dead: And feel they know […]...
35. The Clock's Clear Voice Into The Clearer Air THE cock’s clear voice into the clearer air Where westward far I roam, Mounts with a thrill of hope, Falls with a sigh of home. A rural sentry, he from farm and field The coming morn descries, And, mankind’s bugler, wakes The camp of enterprise. He sings the morn upon the westward hills Strange and […]...
36. Bird Of Hope Soar not too high, O bird of Hope! Because the skies are fair; The tempest may come on apace And overcome thee there. When far above the mountain tops Thou soarest, over all – If, then, the storm should press thee back, How great would be thy fall! And thou wouldst lie here at my […]...
37. Sunday O day most calm, most bright The fruit of this, the next world’s bud, Th’endorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood; The couch of time; care’s balm and bay: The week were dark, but for thy light: Thy torch doth show the way. The other days and thou Make up […]...
38. Spring & Fall: To A Young Child Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By & by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you wíll weep & know […]...
39. To a Young Child Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know […]...
40. To An Athlete Dying Young The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes away […]...