Poems about rightful (21 Poems)
A Fixed Idea (Amy Lowell Poem)
What torture lurks within a single thought When grown too constant, and however kind, However welcome still, the weary mind Aches with its presence. Dull remembrance taught Remembers on unceasingly; unsought The old delight is with us but to find … Continue reading
Endymion: Book IV (John Keats Poem)
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, While yet our England was a wolfish den; Before our … Continue reading
Pleasure XXIV (Khalil Gibran Poem)
Then a hermit, who visited the city once a year, came forth and said, “Speak to us of Pleasure.” And he answered, saying: Pleasure is a freedom song, But it is not freedom. It is the blossoming of your desires, … Continue reading
Sin puts I in the center (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Usurping the place of God turning from his open arms choosing to go to the foreign country away from our Father, our God Sin puts I in the center the focus of our lives taking away as our priority the … Continue reading
Furtively Waiting (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
I wonder how they prepared those who John would chastise those whom he would chide calling them vipers in the wilderness how were they waiting for the coming Christ child were they expectantly anticipating waiting for the coming the king, … Continue reading
A Massacre – v2 (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
It was a slaughter all those of an age all under two years old put to death to assuage the fears of the king to rest his troubled mind to give him peace from a future foretold in scripture for … Continue reading
A Fern Emerging (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Waking, stretching casting off sleep, cocoon of its slumber awakening to the dawn of spring, new life in the fresh air breathing in the newness of the spring day opening its wings to catch the sun, the breeze take its … Continue reading
The Medal (John Dryden Poem)
Of all our antic sights and pageantry Which English idiots run in crowds to see, The Polish Medal bears the prize alone; A monster, more the favourite of the town Than either fairs or theatres have shown. Never did art … Continue reading
Absalom And Achitophel (John Dryden Poem)
In pious times, ere priest-craft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin; When man, on many, multipli’d his kind, Ere one to one was cursedly confin’d: When Nature prompted, and no Law deni’d Promiscuous use of concubine and bride; … Continue reading
The Growth of Love (Robert Seymour Bridges Poem)
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason’s place, –And every perfect action hath the grace Of indolence or thoughtless hardihood– These are the best: yet be there workmen good Who … Continue reading