Ode poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best ode poems ever written. Read all poems about ode.
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
Ode To The Moon
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Usually after the sun's disappear
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
with seven crippled feet,
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
wine with purple feet
or wine with topaz blood,
Among the market greens,
from the ocean
The hands of the clock were reaching high
In an old midtown hotel;
I name no name, but its sordid fame
Is table talk in hell.
in the salt cellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
America, from a grain
of maize you grew
with spacious lands
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,
Their great original proclaim:
Things get broken
like they were pushed
by an invisible, deliberate smasher.
I eat oatmeal for breakfast.
I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it.
I eat it alone.
I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.
Like a creature hibernating in its burrow
Waiting to come out with the first verdure of spring
The seed of a poem lay dormant in my heart
Through the long winter awaiting another spring
AN ODE TO LOVE
Love resides in the temple of a loving heart,
Both live together in a room, very small,
Eat, drink, dance, play and pray.
I'm sure they're gonna be great,
Those odes I've yet to write,
Though I don't intend to create,
The odes, I have mentioned, alright?
This is my modern English translation of Paul Valéry's poem 'Le cimetière marin' ('The graveyard by the sea') . Valéry was buried in the seaside cemetery evoked in his best-known poem. From the vantage of the cemetery, the tombs seemed to 'support' a sea-ceiling dotted with white sails. Valéry begins and ends his poem with this image...
Excerpts from 'Le cimetière marin' ('The graveyard by the sea')
from Charmes ou poèmes (1922)
Let Imraul Qais, Antra and yesteryear poets
Weep on their Atlal
On their blackened hearthstones
And sing an ode for the Emirates
Ode to the cherry tree
How sweet does spring become
Upon the budding of your flowers
Upon the welcoming sight
An ode to you and all your beauty
On ode to you and all your glory
An ode to postdeath screams on the verge of smiling silence in time of human truths moves
For me, the poem's crystal clear, eight syllables to start,
Then suddenly the rhymes appear, so I must play my part.
I choose the ones I think worthwhile, that aptly fit my theme,
Some help the style or make me smile, more verses still to stream.
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