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Best Famous Ararat Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Ararat poems. This is a select list of the best famous Ararat poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Ararat poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of ararat poems.

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Written by Ralph Waldo Emerson | Create an image from this poem

The Problem

I LIKE a church; I like a cowl; 
I love a prophet of the soul; 
And on my heart monastic aisles 
Fall like sweet strains or pensive smiles; 
Yet not for all his faith can see 5 
Would I that cowl¨¨d churchman be. 
Why should the vest on him allure  
Which I could not on me endure? 

Not from a vain or shallow thought 
His awful Jove young Phidias brought; 10 
Never from lips of cunning fell 
The thrilling Delphic oracle: 
Out from the heart of nature rolled 
The burdens of the Bible old; 
The litanies of nations came 15 
Like the volcano's tongue of flame  
Up from the burning core below ¡ª 
The canticles of love and woe; 
The hand that rounded Peter's dome  
And groined the aisles of Christian Rome 20 
Wrought in a sad sincerity; 
Himself from God he could not free; 
He builded better than he knew;¡ª 
The conscious stone to beauty grew. 

Know'st thou what wove yon woodbird's nest 25 
Of leaves and feathers from her breast? 
Or how the fish outbuilt her shell  
Painting with morn each annual cell? 
Or how the sacred pine tree adds 
To her old leaves new myriads? 30 
Such and so grew these holy piles  
Whilst love and terror laid the tiles. 
Earth proudly wears the Parthenon  
As the best gem upon her zone; 
And Morning opes with haste her lids 35 
To gaze upon the Pyramids; 
O'er England's abbeys bends the sky  
As on its friends with kindred eye; 
For out of Thought's interior sphere  
These wonders rose to upper air; 40 
And Nature gladly gave them place  
Adopted them into her race  
And granted them an equal date 
With Andes and with Ararat. 

These temples grew as grows the grass; 45 
Art might obey but not surpass. 
The passive Master lent his hand 
To the vast soul that o'er him planned; 
And the same power that reared the shrine  
Bestrode the tribes that knelt within. 50 
Ever the fiery Pentecost 
Girds with one flame the countless host  
Trances the heart through chanting choirs  
And through the priest the mind inspires. 

The word unto the prophet spoken 55 
Was writ on tables yet unbroken; 
The word by seers or sibyls told  
In groves of oak or fanes of gold  
Still floats upon the morning wind  
Still whispers to the willing mind. 60 
One accent of the Holy Ghost 
The heedless world hath never lost. 
I know what say the fathers wise ¡ª 
The Book itself before me lies ¡ª 
Old Chrysostom best Augustine 65 
And he who blent both in his line  
The younger Golden Lips or mines  
Taylor the Shakespeare of divines. 
His words are music in my ear  
I see his cowl¨¨d portrait dear; 70 
And yet for all his faith could see  
I would not this good bishop be. 


Written by Amy Lowell | Create an image from this poem

Sunshine through a Cobwebbed Window

 What charm is yours, you faded old-world tapestries,
Of outworn, childish mysteries,
Vague pageants woven on a web of dream!
And we, pushing and fighting in the turbid stream
Of modern life, find solace in your tarnished broideries.
Old lichened halls, sun-shaded by huge cedar-trees,
The layered branches horizontal stretched, like Japanese
Dark-banded prints. Carven cathedrals, on a sky
Of faintest colour, where the gothic spires fly
And sway like masts, against a shifting breeze.
Worm-eaten pages, clasped in old brown vellum, 
shrunk
From over-handling, by some anxious monk.
Or Virgin's Hours, bright with gold and graven
With flowers, and rare birds, and all the Saints of Heaven,
And Noah's ark stuck on Ararat, when all the world had sunk.
They soothe us like a song, heard in a garden, 
sung
By youthful minstrels, on the moonlight flung
In cadences and falls, to ease a queen,
Widowed and childless, cowering in a screen
Of myrtles, whose life hangs with all its threads unstrung.
Written by William Blake | Create an image from this poem

The Song of Los

 AFRICA 

I will sing you a song of Los. the Eternal Prophet: 
He sung it to four harps at the tables of Eternity. 
In heart-formed Africa. 
Urizen faded! Ariston shudderd! 
And thus the Song began 

Adam stood in the garden of Eden: 
And Noah on the mountains of Ararat; 
They saw Urizen give his Laws to the Nations 
By the hands of the children of Los. 

Adam shudderd! Noah faded! black grew the sunny African 
When Rintrah gave Abstract Philosophy to Brama in the East: 
(Night spoke to the Cloud! 
Lo these Human form'd spirits in smiling hipocrisy. War 
Against one another; so let them War on; slaves to the eternal Elements) 
Noah shrunk, beneath the waters; 
Abram fled in fires from Chaldea; 
Moses beheld upon Mount Sinai forms of dark delusion: 

To Trismegistus. Palamabron gave an abstract Law: 
To Pythagoras Socrates & Plato. 

Times rolled on o'er all the sons of Har, time after time 
Orc on Mount Atlas howld, chain'd down with the Chain of Jealousy 
Then Oothoon hoverd over Judah & Jerusalem 
And Jesus heard her voice (a man of sorrows) he recievd 
A Gospel from wretched Theotormon. 

The human race began to wither, for the healthy built 
Secluded places, fearing the joys of Love 
And the disease'd only propagated: 
So Antamon call'd up Leutha from her valleys of delight: 
And to Mahomet a loose Bible gave. 
But in the North, to Odin, Sotha gave a Code of War, 
Because of Diralada thinking to reclaim his joy. 

These were the Churches: Hospitals: Castles: Palaces: 
Like nets & gins & traps to catch the joys of Eternity 
And all the rest a desart; 
Till like a dream Eternity was obliterated & erased. 

Since that dread day when Har and Heva fled. 
Because their brethren & sisters liv'd in War & Lust; 
And as they fled they shrunk 
Into two narrow doleful forms: 
Creeping in reptile flesh upon 
The bosom of the ground: 
And all the vast of Nature shrunk 
Before their shrunken eyes. 

Thus the terrible race of Los & Enitharmon gave 
Laws & Religions to the sons of Har binding them more 
And more to Earth: closing and restraining: 
Till a Philosophy of Five Senses was complete 
Urizen wept & gave it into the hands of Newton & Locke 

Clouds roll heavy upon the Alps round Rousseau & Voltaire: 
And on the mountains of Lebanon round the deceased Gods 
Of Asia; & on the deserts of Africa round the Fallen Angels 
The Guardian Prince of Albion burns in his nightly tent 


ASIA 

The Kings of Asia heard 
The howl rise up from Europe! 
And each ran out from his Web; 
From his ancient woven Den; 
For the darkness of Asia was startled 
At the thick-flaming, thought-creating fires of Orc. 

And the Kings of Asia stood 
And cried in bitterness of soul. 

Shall not the King call for Famine from the heath? 
Nor the Priest, for Pestilence from the fen? 
To restrain! to dismay! to thin! 
The inhabitants of mountain and plain; 
In the day, of full-feeding prosperity; 
And the night of delicious songs. 

Shall not the Councellor throw his curb 
Of Poverty on the laborious? 
To fix the price of labour; 
To invent allegoric riches: 

And the privy admonishers of men 
Call for fires in the City 
For heaps of smoking ruins, 
In the night of prosperity & wantonness 

To turn man from his path, 
To restrain the child from the womb, 

To cut off the bread from the city, 
That the remnant may learn to obey. 
That the pride of the heart may fail; 
That the lust of the eyes may be quench'd: 
That the delicate ear in its infancy 

May be dull'd; and the nostrils clos'd up; 
To teach mortal worms the path 
That leads from the gates of the Grave. 

Urizen heard them cry! 
And his shudd'ring waving wings 
Went enormous above the red flames 
Drawing clouds of despair thro' the heavens 
Of Europe as he went: 
And his Books of brass iron & gold 
Melted over the land as he flew, 

Heavy-waving, howling, weeping. 

And he stood over Judea: 
And stay'd in his ancient place: 
And stretch'd his clouds over Jerusalem; 

For Adam, a mouldering skeleton 
Lay bleach'd on the garden of Eden; 
And Noah as white as snow 
On the mountains of Ararat. 

Then the thunders of Urizen bellow'd aloud 
From his woven darkness above. 

Orc raging in European darkness 
Arose like a pillar of fire above the Alps 
Like a serpent of fiery flame! 
The sullen Earth 
Shrunk! 

Forth from the dead dust rattling bones to bones 
Join: shaking convuls'd the shivring clay breathes 
And all flesh naked stands: Fathers and Friends; 
Mothers & Infants; Kings & Warriors: 

The Grave shrieks with delight, & shakes 
Her hollow womb, & clasps the solid stem: 
Her bosom swells with wild desire: 
And milk & blood & glandous wine.
Written by Marriott Edgar | Create an image from this poem

The Ole in the Ark

 One evening at dusk as Noah stood on his Ark,
Putting green oil in starboard side lamp,
His wife came along and said, 'Noah, summat's wrong,
Our cabin is getting quite damp.

Noah said, 'Is that so?' Then he went down below,
And found it were right what she'd said,
For there on the floor quite a puddle he saw,
It was slopping around under t' bed.

Said he, 'There's an 'ole in the bottom somewhere,
We must find it before we retire.'
Then he thowt for a bit, and he said 'Aye, that's it,
A bloodhound is what we require.'

Se he went and fetched bloodhound from place where it lay,
'Tween the skunk and the polecat it were,
And as things there below, were a trifle so-so,
It were glad of a breath of fresh air.

They followed the sound as it went sniffing round,
'Til at last they located the leak,
'Twere a small hole in the side, about two inches wide,
Where a swordfish had poked in its beak.

And by gum! how the wet squirted in through that hole,
Well, young Shem who at sums was expert,
Worked it out on his slate that it came at the rate,
Of per gallon, per second, per squirt.

The bloodhound tried hard to keep water in check,
By lapping it up with his tongue,
But it came in so fast through that hole, that at last,
He shoved in his nose for a bung.

The poor faithful hound, he were very near drowned,
They dragged him away none too soon,
For the stream as it rose, pushed its way up his nose,
And blew him up like a balloon.

And then Mrs Noah shoved her elbow in t'hole,
And said,' Eh! it's stopped I believe,'
But they found very soon as she'd altered her tune,
For the water had got up her sleeve.

When she saw as her elbow weren't doing much good,
She said to Noah, 'I've an idea,
You sit on the leak and by t'end of the week,
There's no knowing, the weather may clear.'

Noah didn't think much to this notion, at all,
But reckoned he'd give it a try,
On the 'ole down he flopped, and the leaking all stopped,
And all... except him, was quite dry.

They took him his breakfast and dinner and tea,
As day after day there he sat,
'Til the rain was all passed and they landed at last,
On top side of Mount Ararat.

And that is how Noah got them all safe ashore,
But ever since then, strange to tell,
Them as helped save the Ark has all carried a mark,
Aye, and all their descendants as well.

That's why dog has a cold nose, and ladies cold elbows,
You'll also find if you enquire,
That's why a man takes his coat tails in hand,
And stands with his back to the fire.

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry