Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms | Poem by William Blake

Now Art Has Lost Its Mental Charms Poem 

………………. by William Blake

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`Now Art has lost its mental charms
France shall subdue the world in arms.

So spoke an Angel at my birth;
Then said `Descend thou upon earth,
Renew the Arts on Britain’s shore,
And France shall fall down and adore.

With works of art their armies meet
And War shall sink beneath thy feet.

But if thy nation Arts refuse,
And if they scorn the immortal Muse,
France shall the arts of peace restore
And save thee from the ungrateful shore.

Spirit who lov’st Britannia’s Isle
Round which the fiends of commerce smile —

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William Blake – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Now Close the Windows | Poem by Robert Frost

Now Close the Windows Poem 

………………. by Robert Frost

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Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.

It will be long ere the marshes resume,
I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.

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Robert Frost – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Nurses Song (Experience) | Poem by William Blake

Nurses Song Experience Poem 

………………. by William Blake

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When the voices of children.
are heard on the green
And whisprings are in the dale:
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.

Then come home my children.
the sun is gone down
And the dews of night arise
Your spring & your day.
are wasted in play
And your winter and night in disguise

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William Blake – Wikipedia

William Blake – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Nurses Song (Innocence) | Poem by William Blake

Nurses Song Innocence Poem 

………………. by William Blake

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When voices of children are heard on the green
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast
And everything else is still

Then come home my children the sun is gone down
And the dews of night arise
Come come leave off play, and let us away
Till the morning appears in the skies

No no let us play, for it is yet day
And we cannot go to sleep
Besides in the sky, the little birds fly
And the hills are all covered with sheep

Well well go & play till the light fades away
And then go home to bed
The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh’d
And all the hills echoed

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Once By The Pacific | Poem by Robert Frost

Once By The Pacific Poem 

………………. by Robert Frost

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The shattered water made a misty din.

Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.

The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.

You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.

Someone had better be prepared for rage.

There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God’s last Put out the Light was spoken.

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Robert Frost – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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One Step Backward Taken | Poem by Robert Frost

One Step Backward Taken Poem 

………………. by Robert Frost

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Not only sands and gravels
Were once more on their travels,
But gulping muddy gallons
Great boulders off their balance
Bumped heads together dully
And started down the gully.

Whole capes caked off in slices.

I felt my standpoint shaken
In the universal crisis.

But with one step backward taken
I saved myself from going.

A world torn loose went by me.

Then the rain stopped and the blowing,
And the sun came out to dry me.

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Robert Frost – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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Only a Curl | Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Only a Curl Poem 

………………. by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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I.

FRIENDS of faces unknown and a land
Unvisited over the sea,
Who tell me how lonely you stand
With a single gold curl in the hand
Held up to be looked at by me, —

II.

While you ask me to ponder and say
What a father and mother can do,
With the bright fellow-locks put away
Out of reach, beyond kiss, in the clay
Where the violets press nearer than you.

III.

Shall I speak like a poet, or run
Into weak woman’s tears for relief ?
Oh, children ! — I never lost one, —
Yet my arm ‘s round my own little son,
And Love knows the secret of Grief.

IV.

And I feel what it must be and is,
When God draws a new angel so
Through the house of a man up to His,
With a murmur of music, you miss,
And a rapture of light, you forgo.

V.

How you think, staring on at the door,
Where the face of your angel flashed in,
That its brightness, familiar before,
Burns off from you ever the more
For the dark of your sorrow and sin.

VI.

`God lent him and takes him,’ you sigh ;
— Nay, there let me break with your pain :
God ‘s generous in giving, say I, —
And the thing which He gives, I deny
That He ever can take back again.

VII.

He gives what He gives.
I appeal
To all who bear babes — in the hour
When the veil of the body we feel
Rent round us, — while torments reveal
The motherhood’s advent in power,

VIII.

And the babe cries ! — has each of us known
By apocalypse (God being there
Full in nature) the child is our own,
Life of life, love of love, moan of moan,
Through all changes, all times, everywhere.

IX.

He ‘s ours and for ever.
Believe,
O father ! — O mother, look back
To the first love’s assurance.
To give
Means with God not to tempt or deceive
With a cup thrust in Benjamin’s sack.

X.

He gives what He gives.
Be content !
He resumes nothing given, — be sure !
God lend ? Where the usurers lent
In His temple, indignant He went
And scourged away all those impure.

XI.

He lends not ; but gives to the end,
As He loves to the end.
If it seem
That He draws back a gift, comprehend
‘Tis to add to it rather, — amend,
And finish it up to your dream, —

XII.

Or keep, — as a mother will toys
Too costly, though given by herself,
Till the room shall be stiller from noise,
And the children more fit for such joys,
Kept over their heads on the shelf.

XIII.

So look up, friends ! you, who indeed
Have possessed in your house a sweet piece
Of the Heaven which men strive for, must need
Be more earnest than others are,–speed
Where they loiter, persist where they cease.

XIV.

You know how one angel smiles there.

Then weep not.
‘Tis easy for you
To be drawn by a single gold hair
Of that curl, from earth’s storm and despair,
To the safe place above us.
Adieu.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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On Anothers Sorrow | Poem by William Blake

On Anothers Sorrow Poem 

………………. by William Blake

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Can I see anothers woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see anothers grief,
And not seek for kind relief.

Can I see a falling tear.

And not feel my sorrows share,
Can a father see his child,
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d.

Can a mother sit and hear.

An infant groan an infant fear–
No no never can it be,
Never never can it be.

And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small.

Hear the small bird’s grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear–

And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast.

And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infant’s tear.

And not sit both night & day.

Wiping all our tears away.

O! no never can it be.

Never never can it be.

He doth give his joy to all,
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not.
thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy maker is not by.

Think not, thou canst weep a tear,
And thy maker is not near.

O! he gives to us his joy.

That our grief he may destroy
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan

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On A Portrait Of Wordsworth | Poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

On A Portrait Of Wordsworth Poem 

………………. by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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WORDSWORTH upon Helvellyn ! Let the cloud
Ebb audibly along the mountain-wind,
Then break against the rock, and show behind
The lowland valleys floating up to crowd
The sense with beauty.
He with forehead bowed
And humble-lidded eyes, as one inclined
Before the sovran thought of his own mind,
And very meek with inspirations proud,
Takes here his rightful place as poet-priest
By the high altar, singing prayer and prayer

To the higher Heavens.
A noble vision free
Our Haydon’s hand has flung out from the mist:
No portrait this, with Academic air !
This is the poet and his poetry.

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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On a Tree Fallen Across the Road | Poem by Robert Frost

On a Tree Fallen Across the Road Poem 

………………. by Robert Frost

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(To hear us talk)

The tree the tempest with a crash of wood
Throws down in front of us is not bar
Our passage to our journey’s end for good,
But just to ask us who we think we are

Insisting always on our own way so.

She likes to halt us in our runner tracks,
And make us get down in a foot of snow
Debating what to do without an ax.

And yet she knows obstruction is in vain:
We will not be put off the final goal
We have it hidden in us to attain,
Not though we have to seize earth by the pole

And, tired of aimless circling in one place,
Steer straight off after something into space.

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Robert Frost – Poet | Academy of American Poets

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