Bartlett's Poems for Occasions
Bartlett's Poems for Occasions, an entertaining, thought-provoking companion to the bestselling Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, is the book to turn to for any circumstance -- from birth to death and everything in between.
Under the direction of esteemed poet and writer Geoffrey O'Brien, Bartlett's Poems for Occasions will inspire you to turn to poetry to celebrate a new baby or marriage, toast a colleague, cheer a graduate, honor a birthday, deliver a eulogy, or add zest to a holiday party. It is the perfect solution to the age-old question, What should I say?
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THE ROUND OF THE YEAR
VALENT INEs DAY
THAN KSG IVING
THE CHRISTMAS SEASON
THE CYCLES OF LIFE
The Bed by the Window
What piercing cold I feel
Dark house by which once more I stand
THE HUMAN CONDITION
Co NT e NT MENT
THE WORKING LIFE
LOVE AND PASSION
Not Waving but Drowning
Seeing the Year Out 43
YOUTH AND ITS PLEASURES 123
INTO A DULT H O O D 136
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AMERICAN beautiful birds blue breath bright bring client close cold comes CONDITION CYCLES dark dead death deep doth dream earth Elizabeth Barrett Browning ENGLISH eyes face fair fall feel fields fire flowers friends give gone green grow hand happy hath head hear heart heaven hill home inspection hope hour HUMAN inspectors John keep kiss land laughing leaves light live look Lord meet mind moon morning move Nature never night once pass past play pleasure poems rain remember rest Ring river ROBERT rose round shadows silent sing sleep smile snow song soul sound spring stand stars stay summer sweet tell thee things THOMAS thou thought trans tree turn voice walk wild wind winter wood youth
Page 277 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — rejoicing,— sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees its close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Page 25 - To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.
Page 293 - Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate: For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings, That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Page 174 - Ah, love, let us be true To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.
Page 173 - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
Page 220 - The world recedes: it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy Victory? O Death! where is thy Sting.
Page 310 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 138 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Page 224 - Requiem Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.