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Best Famous Feed In Poems

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

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Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley | Create an image from this poem

Ode to the West Wind

O WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being¡ª 
Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, 
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, 
Pestilence-stricken multitudes!¡ªO thou 5 
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed 
The wing¨¨d seeds, where they lie cold and low, 
Each like a corpse within its grave, until 
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow 
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill 10 
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) 
With living hues and odours plain and hill¡ª 
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere¡ª 
Destroyer and Preserver¡ªhear, O hear! 

Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's commotion, 15 
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, 
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean, 
Angels of rain and lightning! they are spread 
On the blue surface of thine airy surge, 
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head 20 
Of some fierce M?nad, ev'n from the dim verge 
Of the horizon to the zenith's height¡ª 
The locks of the approaching storm.
Thou dirge Of the dying year, to which this closing night Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre, 25 Vaulted with all thy congregated might Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst:¡ªO hear! Thou who didst waken from his summer-dreams The blue Mediterranean, where he lay, 30 Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams, Beside a pumice isle in Bai?'s bay, And saw in sleep old palaces and towers Quivering within the wave's intenser day, All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers 35 So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know 40 Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear And tremble and despoil themselves:¡ªO hear! If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear; If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee; A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share 45 The impulse of thy strength, only less free Than thou, O uncontrollable!¡ªif even I were as in my boyhood, and could be The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven, As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed 50 Scarce seem'd a vision,¡ªI would ne'er have striven As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
O lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud! I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed! A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd 55 One too like thee¡ªtameless, and swift, and proud.
Make me thy lyre, ev'n as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep autumnal tone, 60 Sweet though in sadness.
Be thou, Spirit fierce, My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one! Drive my dead thoughts over the universe, Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth; And, by the incantation of this verse, 65 Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? 70


Written by Matthew Arnold | Create an image from this poem

The Forsaken Merman

 Come, dear children, let us away;
Down and away below!
Now my brothers call from the bay,
Now the great winds shoreward blow,
Now the salt tides seaward flow;
Now the wild white horses play,
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away! This way, this way! Call her once before you go— Call once yet! In a voice that she will know: 'Margaret! Margaret!' Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear; Children's voices, wild with pain— Surely she will come again! Call her once and come away; This way, this way! 'Mother dear, we cannot stay! The wild white horses foam and fret.
' Margaret! Margaret! Come, dear children, come away down; Call no more! One last look at the white-walled town, And the little grey church on the windy shore; Then come down! She will not come though you call all day; Come away, come away! Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? In the caverns where we lay, Through the surf and through the swell, The far-off sound of a silver bell? Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, Where the salt weed sways in the stream, Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground; Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, Dry their mail and bask in the brine; Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye? When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee.
She combed its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.
She sighed, she looked up through the clear green sea; She said: 'I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore today.
'Twill be Easter-time in the world—ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee.
' I said: 'Go up, dear heart, through the waves; Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves!' She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.
Children dear, was it yesterday? Children dear, were we long alone? 'The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; Long prayers,' I said, 'in the world they say; Come,' I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay.
We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-walled town; Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, To the little grey church on the windy hill.
From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.
We climbed on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.
She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: 'Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here! Dear heart,' I said, 'we are long alone; The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.
' But, ah, she gave me never a look, For her eyes we sealed to the holy book! Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.
Come away, children, call no more! Come away, come down, call no more! Down, down, down! Down to the depths of the sea! She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully.
Hark, what she sings: 'O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy! For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well; For the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun!' And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, Till the shuttle drops from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare; And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden, And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away children; Come children, come down! The hoarse wind blows coldly; Lights shine in the town.
She will start from her slumber When gusts shake the door; She will hear the winds howling, Will hear the waves roar.
We shall see, while above us The waves roar and whirl, A ceiling of amber, A pavement of pearl, Singing: 'Here came a mortal, But faithless was she! And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea.
' But, children, at midnight, When soft the winds blow, When clear fall the moonlight, When spring-tides are low; When sweet airs come seaward From heaths starred with broom, And high rocks throw mildly On the blanched sands a gloom; Up the still, glistening beaches, Up the creeks we will hie, Over banks of bright seaweed The ebb-tide leaves dry.
We will gaze, from the sand-hills, At the white sleeping town; At the church on the hillside— And then come back down.
Singing: 'There dwells a loved one, But cruel is she! She left lonely for ever The kings of the sea.
'
Written by Thomas Carew | Create an image from this poem

To A. L. Persuasions to Love

 THINK not, 'cause men flattering say
You're fresh as April, sweet as May,
Bright as is the morning star,
That you are so ; or, though you are,
Be not therefore proud, and deem
All men unworthy your esteem :
For, being so, you lose the pleasure
Of being fair, since that rich treasure
Of rare beauty and sweet feature
Was bestow'd on you by nature
To be enjoy'd ; and 'twere a sin
There to be scarce, where she hath bin
So prodigal of her best graces.
Thus common beauties and mean faces Shall have more pastime, and enjoy The sport you lose by being coy.
Did the thing for which I sue Only concern myself, not you ; Were men so framed as they alone Reap'd all the pleasure, women none ; Then had you reason to be scant : But 'twere a madness not to grant That which affords (if you consent) To you the giver, more content Than me, the beggar.
Oh, then be Kind to yourself, if not to me.
Starve not yourself, because you may Thereby make me pine away ; Nor let brittle beauty make You your wiser thoughts forsake ; For that lovely face will fail.
Beauty's sweet, but beauty's frail, 'Tis sooner past, 'tis sooner done, Than summer's rain, or winter's sun ; Most fleeting, when it is most dear, 'Tis gone, while we but say 'tis here.
These curious locks, so aptly twined, Whose every hair a soul doth bind, Will change their auburn hue and grow White and cold as winter's snow.
That eye, which now is Cupid's nest, Will prove his grave, and all the rest Will follow ; in the cheek, chin, nose, Nor lily shall be found, nor rose.
And what will then become of all Those whom now you servants call ? Like swallows, when your summer's done, They'll fly, and seek some warmer sun.
Then wisely choose one to your friend Whose love may, when your beauties end, Remain still firm : be provident, And think, before the summer's spent, Of following winter ; like the ant, In plenty hoard for time of scant.
Cull out, amongst the multitude Of lovers, that seek to intrude Into your favour, one that may Love for an age, not for a day ; One that will quench your youthful fires, And feed in age your hot desires.
For when the storms of time have moved Waves on that cheek which was beloved, When a fair lady's face is pined, And yellow spread where once red shined ; When beauty, youth, and all sweets leave her, Love may return, but lover never : And old folks say there are no pains Like itch of love in aged veins.
O love me, then, and now begin it, Let us not lose this present minute ; For time and age will work that wrack Which time or age shall ne'er call back.
The snake each year fresh skin resumes, And eagles change their aged plumes ; The faded rose each spring receives A fresh red tincture on her leaves : But if your beauties once decay, You never know a second May.
O then, be wise, and whilst your season Affords you days for sport, do reason ; Spend not in vain your life's short hour, But crop in time your beauty's flower, Which will away, and doth together Both bud and fade, both blow and wither.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things