Poems on the topic: wonder

Poems on the topic “wonder” on Poets.by.

InspiredPercy Bysshe Shelley

Homer's Hymn to Minerva

I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes, Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise, Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid, Revered and mighty; from his awful head Whom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour dressed, Golden, all radiant! wonder strange possessed The everlasting Gods that Shape to see, Shaking a javelin keen, impetuously Rush from the crest of Aegis-bearing Jove; Fearfully Heaven was shaken, and did move Beneath the might of the Cerulean-eyed; Earth dreadfully resounded, far and wide; And, lifted from its depths, the sea swelled high In purple billows, the tide suddenly Stood still, and great Hyperion's son long time Checked his swift steeds, till, where she stood sublime,
DreamyPercy Bysshe Shelley

Homer's Hymn to the Moon

Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody, Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy Sing the wide-winged Moon! Around the earth, From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth, Far light is scattered--boundless glory springs; Where'er she spreads her many-beaming wings The lampless air glows round her golden crown. But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone Under the sea, her beams within abide, Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean's tide, Clothing her form in garments glittering far, And having yoked to her immortal car The beam-invested steeds whose necks on high Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky A western Crescent, borne impetuously. Then is made full the circle of her light,
CheerfulRobert Louis Stevenson

Foreign Children

Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don't you wish that you were me? You have seen the scarlet trees And the lions over seas; You have eaten ostrich eggs, And turned the turtle off their legs. Such a life is very fine, But it's not so nice as mine: You must often as you trod, Have wearied NOT to be abroad. You have curious things to eat, I am fed on proper meat; You must dwell upon the foam, But I am safe and live at home.
DreamyRobert Louis Stevenson

The Flowers

All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames-- These must all be fairy names! Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, Where the braver fairies climb! Fair are grown-up people's trees, But the fairest woods are these; Where, if I were not so tall, I should live for good and all.
RomanticRobert Browning

Natural Magic

All I can say is--I saw it! The room was as bare as your hand. I locked in the swarth little lady,--I swear, From the head to the foot of her--well, quite as bare! "No Nautch shall cheat me," said I, "taking my stand At this bolt which I draw!" And this bolt--I withdraw it, And there laughs the lady, not bare, but embowered With--who knows what verdure, o'erfruited, o'erflowered? Impossible! Only--I saw it! All I can sing is--I feel it! This life was as blank as that room; I let you pass in here. Precaution, indeed? Walls, ceiling, and floor,--not a chance for a weed! Wide opens the entrance: where's cold, now, where's gloom? No May to sow seed here, no June to reveal it,
ContemplativeMichael Drayton

Sonnet XXXIV: Marvel Not, Love

To Admiration Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Ravish'd a world beyond the farthest thought, And knowing more than ever hath been taught, That I am only starv'd in my desire. Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Aiming at things exceeding all perfection, To Wisdom's self to minister correction, That I am only starv'd in my desire. Marvel not, Love, though I thy power admire, Though my conceit I further seem to bend Than possibly invention can extend, And yet am only starv'd in my desire. If thou wilt wonder, here's the wonder, Love: That this to me doth yet no wonder prove.
RomanticMichael Drayton

Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving

To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t'express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One by thy name, the other touching thee; Blind were mine eyes, till they were seen of thine, And mine ears deaf by thy fame healed be, My vices cur'd by virtues sprung from thee, My hopes reviv'd, which long in grave had lien, All unclean thoughts, foul spirits, cast out in me Only by virtue that proceeds from thee.
CheerfulJohn Clare

Dyke Side

The frog croaks loud, and maidens dare not pass But fear the noisome toad and shun the grass; And on the sunny banks they dare not go Where hissing snakes run to the flood below. The nuthatch noises loud in wood and wild, Like women turning skreeking to a child. The schoolboy hears and brushes through the trees And runs about till drabbled to the knees. The old hawk winnows round the old crow's nest; The schoolboy hears and wonder fills his breast. He throws his basket down to climb the tree And wonders what the red blotched eggs can be: The green woodpecker bounces from the view And hollos as he buzzes bye "kew kew."
ContemplativeJohn Clare

Stonepit

The passing traveller with wonder sees A deep and ancient stonepit full of trees; So deep and very deep the place has been, The church might stand within and not be seen. The passing stranger oft with wonder stops And thinks he een could walk upon their tops, And often stoops to see the busy crow, And stands above and sees the eggs below; And while the wild horse gives its head a toss, The squirrel dances up and runs across. The boy that stands and kills the black nosed bee Dares down as soon as magpies' nests are found, And wonders when he climbs the highest tree To find it reaches scarce above the ground.
ContemplativeJohn Clare

The Ants

What wonder strikes the curious, while he views The black ant's city, by a rotten tree, Or woodland bank! In ignorance we muse: Pausing, annoyed,--we know not what we see, Such government and thought there seem to be; Some looking on, and urging some to toil, Dragging their loads of bent-stalks slavishly: And what's more wonderful, when big loads foil One ant or two to carry, quickly then A swarm flock round to help their fellow-men. Surely they speak a language whisperingly, Too fine for us to hear; and sure their ways Prove they have kings and laws, and that they be Deformed remnants of the Fairy-days.
ContemplativeJohn Donne

Song (Go And Catch A Falling Star)

Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the Devil's foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing, Or to keep off envy's stinging, And find What wind Serves to advance an honest mind. If thou be'st born to strange sights, Things invisible to see, Ride ten thousand days and nights, Till age snow white hairs on thee; Thou, when thou return'st, wilt tell me All strange wonders that befell thee, And swear
InspiredJohn Keats

On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer

Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He star'd at the Pacific--and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-- Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

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