poems finale

8/6/2019 Poems Finale

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A Mind

Within

Papered Verse

Benjamin Horton

Advanced English 9

16 April 2009


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ContentsCategory:

Love

A White Rose--------------------John Boyle OReilly 1

Simple Greeting------------------Benjamin Horton 2

Absence----------------------------Richard Jago 3

Death and Time

Death-------------------------------Thomas Hood 4

The Grasp of Death--------------Benjamin Horton 5

Crabbed age and Youth---------William Shakespeare 6

Religion

Liturgy of the Presanctified----Benjamin Horton 7

A Doubt of Martyrdom---------Sir John Suckling 8

Space

The Final Frontier----------------Benjamin Horton 9


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A White Rose

The red rose whispers of passion,

And the white rose breathes of love;

O, the red is a falcon,

And the white rose is a dove.

But I send you a cream-white rosebud

With a flush on its petal tips;

For the love that is purest and sweetest

Has a kiss of desire on the lips.

John Boyle OReilly

Simple Greeting


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Eyes of the beauty

penetrating the silence.

The rhythmic beat of hearts.

A downpour of movements

catching one off guard.


A hint of lavender

surrounding nervous smiles.


A simple greeting

uniting two as one.


The making of friendship

contorting to a mask.


A love unlike any,

triumphs.


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Absence

With leaden foot Time creeps along

While Delia is away:

With her, nor plaintive was the song,

Nor tedious was the day.

Ah, envious Powr! reverse my doom;

Now double thy career,

Strain evry nerve, stretch evry plume,

And rest them when shes here!

Richard Jago


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Death

It is not death, that sometimes in a sigh

This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;

That sometimes these bright stars, that now reply

In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;

That this warm conscience flesh shall perish quite,

And all lifes ruddy springs forget to flow,

That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite

Be lappd in alien clay and laid below;

It is not death to know thisbut to know

That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves

In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go

So duly and so oftand when grass waves

Over the passd-away, there may be then

No resurrection in the minds of men.

Thomas Hood


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The Grasp of Death

The discontented endeavors perish

with memories only to cherish.

Thoughts tumble into oblivion

no longer secure at the mind's pavilion.

Scarce relics of remembrance treasured

as time no longer is measured.

Limped corpse forgotten below

to others remained in the show.

Death brings about a fear

like none other far or near.


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Crabbed Age and Youth

Crabbed Age and Youth

Cannot live together:

Youth is full of pleasance,

Age is full of care;

Youth like summer morn,

Age like winter weather;

Youth like summer brave,

Age like winter bare.

Youth is full of sport,

Ages breath is short;

Youth is nimble, Age is lame;

Youth is hot and bold,

Age is weak and cold;

Youth is wild, Age is tame.

Age, I do abhor thee;

Youth, I do adore thee;

O, my Love, my Love is young!

Age, I do defy thee:

O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!

For methinks thou stayst too long.

Shakespeare


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Liturgy of the Presanctified

Komboskini swaying with prayer

Incense drifting with silent petitions

Byzantine chants surround the air

Priest prostrated before the Presanctified.

Servers ask for blessings

Oil lamps illuminate the darkness

Announcements placed aside for later addressings

Quick confession invites a parishioner to be satisfied.

Worn robes become vested

Holy gifts laid upon the alter

Unheard prayers fall from father unrested

Tonight, not one will be tested.


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A Doubt of Martyrdom

O for some honest lovers ghost,

Some kind unbodied post

Sent from the shades below!

I strangely long to know

Whether the noble chaplets wear

Those that their mistress scorn did bear

Or those that were used kindly.

For whatsoeer they tell us here

To make those sufferings dear,

Twill there, I fear, be found

That to the being crownd

T have loved alone will not suffice,

Unless we also have been wise

And have our loves enjoyd.

What posture can we think him in

That, here unloved, again

Departs, and s thither gone

Where each sits by his own?


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Or how can that Elysium be

Where I my mistress still must see

Circled in others arms?

For there the judges all are just,

And Sophonisba must

Be his whom she held dear,

Not his who loved her here.

The sweet Philoclea, since she died,

Lies by her Pirocles his side,

Not by Amphialus.

Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough

For difference crowns the brow

Of those kind souls that were

The noble martyrs here:

And if that be the only odds

(As who can tell?), ye kinder gods,

Give me the woman here!

Sir John Suckling


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The Final Frontier

Home of gods,

All play the odds,

So far from waning grasp,

But as close as a belt clasp.

Swirling, spinning sprites,

Dancing, delving delights,

Universal expanse ageless,

Heavenly hosts dwell careless.

Clouds of gases tower,

Planets hoard indisputable power,

Rotational pull captures all,

Silence draped like a shawl.

Racing, reveling rocks,

Baffling, bewildering box,

Mysteries for our mind,

What wonders will we find?

Distant yet near,

The Final Frontier.


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Works Cited

Hood, Thomas. Death. The Oxford book of English Verse. 1940. 773.

Jago, Richard. Absence. The Oxford book of English Verse. 1940. 529.

OReilly, John Boyle. A White Rose. The Oxford book of English Verse. 1940. 1013.

Shakespeare, William. Crabbed Age and Youth. The Oxford book of English Verse. 1940. 91.

Suckling, Sir John. A Doubt of Martyrdom. The Oxford book of English Verse. 1940. 357.

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