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Best Famous Severely Poems

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Written by Thomas Campbell | Create an image from this poem

Love And Madness

 Hark ! from the battlements of yonder tower
The solemn bell has tolled the midnight hour !
Roused from drear visions of distempered sleep,
Poor Broderick wakes—in solitude to weep !

"Cease, Memory; cease (the friendless mourner cried)
To probe the bosom too severely tried !
Oh ! ever cease, my pensive thoughts, to stray
Through tie bright fields of Fortune's better day,
When youthful Hope, the music of the mind,
Tuned all its charms, and Errington was kind !

Yet, can I cease, while glows this trembling frame,
In sighs to speak thy melancholy name !
I hear thy spirit wail in every storm !
In midniglit shades I view thy passing form !
Pale as in that sad hour when doomed to feel !
Deep in thy perjured heart, the bloody steel !

Demons of Vengeance ! ye, at whose command
I grasped the sword with more than woman's hand
Say ye, did Pity's trembling voice control,
Or horror damp the purpose of my soul ? 
No ! my wild heart sat smiling o'er the plan,
'Till Hate fulfilled what baffled love began !

Yes ; let the clay-cold breast that never knew 
One tender pang to generous nature true,
Half-mingling pity with the gall of scorn,
Condemn this heart, that bled in love forlorn !

And ye, proud fair, whose soul no gladness warms,
Save Rapture's homage to your conscious charms !
Delighted idols of a gaudy train,
Ill can your blunter feelings guess the pain,
When the fond, faithful heart, inspired to prove
Friendship refined, the calm delight of Love,
Feels all its tender strings with anguish torn,
And bleeds at perjured Pride's inhuman scorn.
Say, then, did pitying Heaven condemn the deed, When Vengeance bade thee, faithless lover! bleed ? Long had I watched thy dark foreboding brow, What time thy bosom scorned its dearest vow ! Sad, though I wept the friend, the lover changed, Still thy cold look was scornful and estranged, Till from thy pity, love, and shelter thrown, I wandered hopeless, friendless, and alone ! Oh ! righteous Heaven ! 't was then my tortured soul First gave to wrath unlimited control ! Adieu the silent look ! the streaming eye ! The murmured plaint ! the deep heart-heaving sigh ! Long-slumbering Vengeance wakes to better deeds ; He shrieks, he falls, the perjured lover bleeds ! Now the last laugh of agony is o'er, And pale in blood he sleeps, to wake no more ! 'T is done ! the flame of hate no longer burns : Nature relents, but, ah! too late returns! Why does my soul this gush of fondness feel ? Trembling and faint, I drop the guilty steel ! Cold on my heart the hand of terror lies, And shades of horror close my languid eyes ! Oh ! 't was a deed of Murder's deepest grain ! Could Broderick's soul so true to wrath remain ? A friend long true, a once fond lover fell ? Where Love was fostered could not Pity dwell ? Unhappy youth ! while you pale cresscent glows To watch on silent Nature's deep repose, Thy sleepless spirit, breathing from the tomb , Foretells my fate, and summons me to come ! Once more I see thy sheeted spectre stand , Roll the dim eye, and wave the paly hand ! Soon may this fluttering spark of vital flame Forsake its languid melancholy frame ! Soon may these eyes their trembling lustre close, Welcome the dreamless night of long repose ! Soon may this woe-worn spirit seek the bourne Where, lulled to slumber, Grief forgets to mourn !"


Written by Roger McGough | Create an image from this poem

The Lesson

 Chaos ruled OK in the classroom
as bravely the teacher walked in
the nooligans ignored him
hid voice was lost in the din

"The theme for today is violence
and homework will be set
I'm going to teach you a lesson
one that you'll never forget"

He picked on a boy who was shouting
and throttled him then and there
then garrotted the girl behind him
(the one with grotty hair)

Then sword in hand he hacked his way
between the chattering rows
"First come, first severed" he declared
"fingers, feet or toes"

He threw the sword at a latecomer
it struck with deadly aim
then pulling out a shotgun
he continued with his game

The first blast cleared the backrow
(where those who skive hang out)
they collapsed like rubber dinghies
when the plug's pulled out

"Please may I leave the room sir?"
a trembling vandal enquired
"Of course you may" said teacher
put the gun to his temple and fired

The Head popped a head round the doorway
to see why a din was being made
nodded understandingly
then tossed in a grenade

And when the ammo was well spent
with blood on every chair
Silence shuffled forward
with its hands up in the air

The teacher surveyed the carnage
the dying and the dead
He waggled a finger severely
"Now let that be a lesson" he said
Written by Pythagoras | Create an image from this poem

The Golden Verses of Pythagoras

1.
First worship the Immortal Gods, as they are established and ordained by the Law.
2.
Reverence the Oath, and next the Heroes, full of goodness and light.
3.
Honour likewise the Terrestrial Daemons by rendering them the worship lawfully due to them.
4.
Honour likewise your parents, and those most nearly related to you.
5.
Of all the rest of mankind, make him your friend who distinguishes himself by his virtue.
6.
Always give ear to his mild exhortations, and take example from his virtuous and useful actions.
7.
Avoid as much as possible hating your friend for a slight fault.
8.
Power is a near neighbour to necessity.
9.
Know that all these things are just as what I have told you; and accustom yourself to overcome and vanquish these passions:-- 10.
First gluttony, sloth, sensuality, and anger.
11.
Do nothing evil, neither in the presence of others, nor privately; 12.
But above all things respect yourself.
13.
In the next place, observe justice in your actions and in your words.
14.
And do not accustom yourself to behave yourself in any thing without rule, and without reason.
15.
But always make this reflection, that it is ordained by destiny that all men shall die.
16.
And that the goods of fortune are uncertain; and that just as they may be acquired, they may likewise be lost.
17.
Concerning all the calamities that men suffer by divine fortune, 18.
Support your lot with patience, it is what it may be, and never complain at it.
19.
But endeavour what you can to remedy it.
20.
And consider that fate does not send the greatest portion of these misfortunes to good men.
21.
There are many sorts of reasonings among men, good and bad; 22.
Do not admire them too easily, nor reject them.
23.
But if falsehoods are advanced, hear them with mildness, and arm yourself with patience.
24.
Observe well, on every occasion, what I am going to tell you:-- 25.
Do not let any man either by his words, or by his deeds, ever seduce you.
26.
Nor lure you to say or to do what is not profitable for yourself.
27.
Consult and deliberate before you act, that you may not commit foolish actions.
28.
For it is the part of a miserable man to speak and to act without reflection.
29.
But do the thing which will not afflict you afterwards, nor oblige you to repentance.
30.
Never do anything which you do not understand.
31.
But learn all you ought to know, and by that means you will lead a very pleasant life.
32.
in no way neglect the health of your body; 33.
But give it drink and meat in due measure, and also the exercise of which it needs.
34.
Now by measure I mean what will not discomfort you.
35.
Accustom yourself to a way of living that is neat and decent without luxury.
36.
Avoid all things that will occasion envy.
37.
And do not be prodigal out of season, like someone who does not know what is decent and honourable.
38.
Neither be covetous nor stingy; a due measure is excellent in these things.
39.
Only do the things that cannot hurt you, and deliberate before you do them.
40.
Never allow sleep to close your eyelids, after you went to bed, 41.
Until you have examined all your actions of the day by your reason.
42.
In what have I done wrong? What have I done? What have I omitted that I ought to have done? 43.
If in this examination you find that you have done wrong, reprove yourself severely for it; 44.
And if you have done any good, rejoice.
45.
Practise thoroughly all these things; meditate on them well; you ought to love them with all your heart.
46.
It is those that will put you in the way of divine virtue.
47.
I swear it by he who has transmitted into our souls the Sacred Quaternion, the source of nature, whose cause is eternal.
48.
But never begin to set your hand to any work, until you have first prayed the gods to accomplish what you are going to begin.
49.
When you have made this habit familiar to you, 50.
You will know the constitution of the Immortal Gods and of men.
51.
Even how far the different beings extend, and what contains and binds them together.
52.
You shall likewise know that according to Law, the nature of this universe is in all things alike, 53.
So that you shall not hope what you ought not to hope; and nothing in this world shall be hidden from you.
54.
You will likewise know, that men draw upon themselves their own misfortunes voluntarily, and of their own free choice.
55.
Unhappy they are! They neither see nor understand that their good is near them.
56.
Few know how to deliver themselves out of their misfortunes.
57.
Such is the fate that blinds humankind, and takes away his senses.
58.
Like huge cylinders they roll back and forth, and always oppressed with innumerable ills.
59.
For fatal strife, natural, pursues them everywhere, tossing them up and down; nor do they perceive it.
60.
Instead of provoking and stirring it up, they ought to avoid it by yielding.
61.
Oh! Jupiter, our Father! If you would deliver men from all the evils that oppress them, 62.
Show them of what daemon they make use.
63.
But take courage; the race of humans is divine.
64.
Sacred nature reveals to them the most hidden mysteries.
65.
If she impart to you her secrets, you will easily perform all the things which I have ordained thee.
66.
And by the healing of your soul, you wilt deliver it from all evils, from all afflictions.
67.
But you should abstain from the meats, which we have forbidden in the purifications and in the deliverance of the soul; 68.
Make a just distinction of them, and examine all things well.
69.
Leave yourself always to be guided and directed by the understanding that comes from above, and that ought to hold the reins.
70.
And when, after having deprived yourself of your mortal body, you arrived at the most pure Aither, 71.
You shall be a God, immortal, incorruptible, and Death shall have no more dominion over you.
Written by Matthew Arnold | Create an image from this poem

Self-Dependence

 Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be,
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me
Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea.
And a look of passionate desire O'er the sea and to the stars I send: 'Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me, Calm me, ah, compose me to the end! 'Ah, once more,' I cried, 'ye stars, ye waters, On my heart your mighty charm renew; Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, Feel my soul becoming vast like you!' From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, Over the lit sea's unquiet way, In the rustling night-air came the answer: 'Wouldst thou be as these are? Live as they.
'Unaffrighted by the silence round them, Undistracted by the sights they see, These demand not that the things without them Yield them love, amusement, sympathy.
'And with joy the stars perform their shining, And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll; For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting All the fever of some differing soul.
'Bounded by themselves, and unregardful In what state God's other works may be, In their own tasks all their powers pouring, These attain the mighty life you see.
' O air-born voice! long since, severely clear, A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear: 'Resolve to be thyself; and know that he, Who finds himself, loses his misery!'
Written by George (Lord) Byron | Create an image from this poem

Remember Him Whom Passions Power

 Remember him, whom Passion's power
Severely---deeply---vainly proved:
Remember thou that dangerous hour,
When neither fell, though both were loved.
That yielding breast, that melting eye, Too much invited to be blessed: That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh, The wilder wish reproved, repressed.
Oh! let me feel that all I lost But saved thee all that Conscience fears; And blush for every pang it cost To spare the vain remorse of years.
Yet think of this when many a tongue, Whose busy accents whisper blame, Would do the heart that loved thee wrong, And brand a nearly blighted name.
Think that, whate'er to others, thou Hast seen each selfish thought subdued: I bless thy purer soul even now, Even now, in midnight solitude.
Oh, God! that we had met in time, Our hearts as fond, thy hand more free; When thou hadst loved without a crime, And I been less unworthy thee! Far may thy days, as heretofore, From this our gaudy world be past! And that too bitter moment o'er, Oh! may such trial be thy last.
This heart, alas! perverted long, Itself destroyed might there destroy; To meet thee in the glittering throng, Would wake Presumption's hope of joy.
Then to the things whose bliss or woe, Like mine, is wild and worthless all, That world resign---such scenes forego, Where those who feel must surely fall.
Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness--- Thy soul from long seclusion pure; From what even here hath passed, may guess What there thy bosom must endure.
Oh! pardon that imploring tear, Since not by Virtue shed in vain, My frenzy drew from eyes so dear; For me they shall not weep again.
Though long and mournful must it be, The thought that we no more may meet; Yet I deserve the stern decree, And almost deem the sentence sweet.
Still---had I loved thee less---my heart Had then less sacrificed to thine; It felt not half so much to part As if its guilt had made thee mine.


Written by Robert Browning | Create an image from this poem

Master Hugues Of Saxe-Gotha

 An imaginary composer.
] I.
Hist, but a word, fair and soft! Forth and be judged, Master Hugues! Answer the question I've put you so oft: What do you mean by your mountainous fugues? See, we're alone in the loft,--- II.
I, the poor organist here, Hugues, the composer of note, Dead though, and done with, this many a year: Let's have a colloquy, something to quote, Make the world prick up its ear! III.
See, the church empties apace: Fast they extinguish the lights.
Hallo there, sacristan! Five minutes' grace! Here's a crank pedal wants setting to rights, Baulks one of holding the base.
IV.
See, our huge house of the sounds, Hushing its hundreds at once, Bids the last loiterer back to his bounds! O you may challenge them, not a response Get the church-saints on their rounds! V.
(Saints go their rounds, who shall doubt? ---March, with the moon to admire, Up nave, down chancel, turn transept about, Supervise all betwixt pavement and spire, Put rats and mice to the rout--- VI.
Aloys and Jurien and Just--- Order things back to their place, Have a sharp eye lest the candlesticks rust, Rub the church-plate, darn the sacrament-lace, Clear the desk-velvet of dust.
) VII.
Here's your book, younger folks shelve! Played I not off-hand and runningly, Just now, your masterpiece, hard number twelve? Here's what should strike, could one handle it cunningly: HeIp the axe, give it a helve! VIII.
Page after page as I played, Every bar's rest, where one wipes Sweat from one's brow, I looked up and surveyed, O'er my three claviers yon forest of pipes Whence you still peeped in the shade.
IX.
Sure you were wishful to speak? You, with brow ruled like a score, Yes, and eyes buried in pits on each cheek, Like two great breves, as they wrote them of yore, Each side that bar, your straight beak! X.
Sure you said---``Good, the mere notes! ``Still, couldst thou take my intent, ``Know what procured me our Company's votes--- ``A master were lauded and sciolists shent, ``Parted the sheep from the goats!'' XI.
Well then, speak up, never flinch! Quick, ere my candle's a snuff ---Burnt, do you see? to its uttermost inch--- _I_ believe in you, but that's not enough: Give my conviction a clinch! XII.
First you deliver your phrase ---Nothing propound, that I see, Fit in itself for much blame or much praise--- Answered no less, where no answer needs be: Off start the Two on their ways.
XIII.
Straight must a Third interpose, Volunteer needlessly help; In strikes a Fourth, a Fifth thrusts in his nose, So the cry's open, the kennel's a-yelp, Argument's hot to the close.
XIV.
One dissertates, he is candid; Two must discept,--has distinguished; Three helps the couple, if ever yet man did; Four protests; Five makes a dart at the thing wished: Back to One, goes the case bandied.
XV.
One says his say with a difference More of expounding, explaining! All now is wrangle, abuse, and vociferance; Now there's a truce, all's subdued, self-restraining: Five, though, stands out all the stiffer hence.
XVI.
One is incisive, corrosive: Two retorts, nettled, curt, crepitant; Three makes rejoinder, expansive, explosive; Four overbears them all, strident and strepitant, Five .
.
.
O Danaides, O Sieve! XVII.
Now, they ply axes and crowbars; Now, they prick pins at a tissue Fine as a skein of the casuist Escobar's Worked on the bone of a lie.
To what issue? Where is our gain at the Two-bars? XVIII.
_Est fuga, volvitur rota.
_ On we drift: where looms the dim port? One, Two, Three, Four, Five, contribute their quota; Something is gained, if one caught but the import--- Show it us, Hugues of Saxe-Gotha! XIX.
What with affirming, denying, Holding, risposting, subjoining, All's like .
.
.
it's like .
.
.
for an instance I'm trying .
.
.
There! See our roof, its gilt moulding and groining Under those spider-webs lying! XX.
So your fugue broadens and thickens, Greatens and deepens and lengthens, Till we exclaim---``But where's music, the dickens? ``Blot ye the gold, while your spider-web strengthens ``---Blacked to the stoutest of tickens?'' XXI.
I for man's effort am zealous: Prove me such censure unfounded! Seems it surprising a lover grows jealous--- Hopes 'twas for something, his organ-pipes sounded, Tiring three boys at the bellows? XXII.
Is it your moral of Life? Such a web, simple and subtle, Weave we on earth here in impotent strife, Backward and forward each throwing his shuttle, Death ending all with a knife? XXIII.
Over our heads truth and nature--- Still our life's zigzags and dodges, Ins and outs, weaving a new legislature--- God's gold just shining its last where that lodges, Palled beneath man's usurpature.
XXIV.
So we o'ershroud stars and roses, Cherub and trophy and garland; Nothings grow something which quietly closes Heaven's earnest eye: not a glimpse of the far land Gets through our comments and glozes.
XXV.
Ah but traditions, inventions, (Say we and make up a visage) So many men with such various intentions, Down the past ages, must know more than this age! Leave we the web its dimensions! XXVI.
Who thinks Hugues wrote for the deaf, Proved a mere mountain in labour? Better submit; try again; what's the clef? 'Faith, 'tis no trifle for pipe and for tabor--- Four flats, the minor in F.
XXVII.
Friend, your fugue taxes the finger Learning it once, who would lose it? Yet all the while a misgiving will linger, Truth's golden o'er us although we refuse it--- Nature, thro' cobwebs we string her.
XXVIII.
Hugues! I advise _Me Pn_ (Counterpoint glares like a Gorgon) Bid One, Two, Three, Four, Five, clear the arena! Say the word, straight I unstop the full-organ, Blare out the _mode Palestrina.
_ XXIX.
While in the roof, if I'm right there, .
.
.
Lo you, the wick in the socket! Hallo, you sacristan, show us a light there! Down it dips, gone like a rocket.
What, you want, do you, to come unawares, Sweeping the church up for first morning-prayers, And find a poor devil has ended his cares At the foot of your rotten-runged rat-riddled stairs? Do I carry the moon in my pocket? * 1 A fugue is a short melody.
* 2 Keyboard of organ.
* 3 A note in music.
* 4 The daughters of Danaus, condemned to pour water * into a sieve.
* 5 The Spanish casuist, so severely mauled by Pascal.
* 6 A quick return in fencing.
* 7 A closely woven fabric.
* 8 _Giovanni P.
da Palestrina_, celebrated musician (1524-1594).
Written by Siegfried Sassoon | Create an image from this poem

Editorial Impressions

 He seemed so certain ‘all was going well’, 
As he discussed the glorious time he’d had 
While visiting the trenches.
‘One can tell You’ve gathered big impressions!’ grinned the lad Who’d been severely wounded in the back In some wiped-out impossible Attack.
‘Impressions? Yes, most vivid! I am writing A little book called Europe on the Rack, Based on notes made while witnessing the fighting.
I hope I’ve caught the feeling of “the Line”, And the amazing spirit of the troops.
By Jove, those flying-chaps of ours are fine! I watched one daring beggar looping loops, Soaring and diving like some bird of prey.
And through it all I felt that splendour shine Which makes us win.
’ The soldier sipped his wine.
‘Ah, yes, but it’s the Press that leads the way!
Written by Isaac Watts | Create an image from this poem

PSALM 105 Abridged

 God's conduct of Israel, and the plagues of Egypt.
Give thanks to God, invoke his name, And tell the world his grace; Sound through the earth his deeds of fame, That all may seek his face.
His cov'nant, which he kept in mind For num'rous ages past, To num'rous ages yet behind In equal force shall last.
He sware to Abraham and his seed, And made the blessing sure; Gentiles the ancient promise read, And find his truth endure.
"Thy seed shall make all nations blest," (Said the Almighty voice,) "And Canaan's land shall be their rest, The type of heav'nly joys.
" [How large the grant! how rich the grace, To give them Canaan's land, When they were strangers in the place, A little feeble band! Like pilgrims through the countries round Securely they removed; And haughty kings that on them frowned Severely he reproved.
"Touch mine anointed, and my arm Shall soon revenge the wrong: The man that does my prophets harm, Shall know their God is strong.
" Then let the world forbear its rage, Nor put the church in fear; Isr'el must live through every age, And be th' Almighty's care.
] PAUSE I.
When Pharaoh dared to vex the saints, And thus provoked their God, Moses was sent at their complaints, Armed with his dreadful rod.
He called for darkness; darkness came Like an o'erwhelming flood; He turned each lake and every stream To lakes and streams of blood.
He gave the sign, and noisome flies Through the whole country spread; And frogs in croaking armies rise About the monarch's bed.
Through fields, and towns, and palaces, The tenfold vengeance flew; Locusts in swarms devoured their trees, And hail their cattle slew.
Then by an angel's midnight stroke The flower of Egypt died; The strength of every house was broke, Their glory and their pride.
Now let the world forbear its rage, Nor put the church in fear; Isr'el must live through every age, And be th' Almighty's care.
PAUSE II.
Thus were the tribes from bondage brought, And left the hated ground; Each some Egyptian spoils had got, And not one feeble found.
The Lord himself chose out their way, And marked their journeys right; Gave them a leading cloud by day, A fiery guide by night.
They thirst, and waters from the rock In rich abundance flow; And following still the course they took, Ran all the desert through.
O wondrous stream! O blessed type Of ever-flowing grace! So Christ, our Rock, maintains our life Through all this wilderness.
Thus guarded by th' Almighty hand, The chosen tribes possessed Canaan, the rich, the promised land, And there enjoyed their rest.
Then let the world forbear its rage, The church renounce her fear; Isr'el must live through every age, And be th' Almighty's care.
Written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | Create an image from this poem

LOVES DISTRESSES

 WHO will hear me? Whom shall I lament to?
Who would pity me that heard my sorrows?
Ah, the lip that erst so many raptures
Used to taste, and used to give responsive,
Now is cloven, and it pains me sorely;
And it is not thus severely wounded
By my mistress having caught me fiercely,
And then gently bitten me, intending
To secure her friend more firmly to her:
No, my tender lip is crack'd thus, only
By the winds, o'er rime and frost proceeding,
Pointed, sharp, unloving, having met me.
Now the noble grape's bright juice commingled With the bee's sweet juice, upon the fire Of my hearth, shall ease me of my torment.
Ah, what use will all this be, if with it Love adds not a drop of his own balsam? 1789.
*
Written by Lewis Carroll | Create an image from this poem

Speak Roughly to Your Little Boy

 And with that she
began nursing her child again, singing a sort of
lullaby to it as she did so, and giving it a vio­ 
lent shake at the end of every line: -- --
"Speak roughly to your little boy, 
And beat him when he sneezes; 
He only does it to annoy, 
Because he knows it teases.
"CHORUS (in which the cook and the baby joined): -- -- "Wow! wow! wow!"While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words: -- -- "I speak severely to my boy, I beat him when he sneezes; For he can thoroughly enjoy The pepper when he pleases!" CHORUS"Wow! wow! wow!"

Book: Shattered Sighs