Samuel Johnson

Author's Note: This is my emulation of Samuel Johnson's "Evening Ode". 

Evening Ode- (Samuel Johnson's)

Evening now from purple wings 7

Sheds the grateful gifts she brings; 7

Brilliant drops bedeck the mead, 7

Cooling breezes shake the reed; 7

Shake the reed, and curl the stream 7

Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam; 8

Near the chequer'd, lonely grove, 7

Hears, and keeps thy secrets, love! 7

Stella, thither let us stray, 7

Lightly o'er the dewy way. 7

Phoebus drives his burning car, 8

Hence, my lovely Stella, far; 7

In his stead, the queen of night 7

Round us pours a lambent light:7

Light that seems but just to show 7

Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow; 7

Let us now, in whisper'd joy,7

Evening's silent hours employ, 8

Silent best, and conscious shades, 7

Please the hearts that love invades, 7

Other pleasures give them pain, 7

Lovers all but love disdain. 7

Death- (My poem) This is an ironic poem that I wrote right away and now I hate it, but you can read it anyway. I will also post the beginning of my other poem that I really like so far. It's about trees and it really incorporates a lot of mythology. Please tell me how it's going!

Descends from Hell on dark wings

Eats the light darkness it brings;

Evil clings to it's red head,

Where it goes people fall dead;

Fall down dead, life flowing out

Rotten inside with Satan's drought;

Filled with fire hatred rings true,

Once was good but went askew,

Lucifer, leads into greed,

He will kill and make you bleed.

Brutus incased in his dark ice,

Hate, Satan's first friend, entice

On his shoulder, Judas waits,

There he stays tempting the fates:

Death swoops from the angered earth

 Destroying your lovely hearth;

Now fear death for it will come,

Do not drink from that tempting rum,

The day will fall night will rise,

Your body will feed the flies,

Life will end and end with death,

Fade it will, fade your last breath.

Trees- This is the good one that isn't finished.

Standing tall with bright green leaves

Drinking light that it receives;

Giving life to all the world,

Teaching man with leaves unfurled,

Leaves unfurled, and branches high,

Growing out beneath blue sky;

Bark that's strong like sword and shield,

Grows in stream and varied field,

Michael, grows the garden of God,

Strongly with a gentle prod.

Artemis roams in the trees,

Feeling that gentle lonely breeze;

Roots that hold back demon-kind,

Cages of roots intertwined:

Worlds upon lofty branches

 On the Death of Mr. Robert Levet,
a Practiser in Physic, by Samuel Johnson.

CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blasts or slow decline
Our social comforts drop away.
Well tried through many a varying year,
See Levet to the grave descend,
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend.
Yet still he fills affection's eye,
Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;
Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny
Thy praise to merit unrefined.
When fainting nature call'd for aid,
And hov'ring death prepared the blow,
His vig'rous remedy display'd
The power of art without the show.
In Misery's darkest cavern known,
His useful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan,
And lonely Want retired to die.
No summons mock'd by chill delay,
No petty gain disdained by pride;
The modest wants of every day
The toil of every day supplied.
His virtues walk'd their narrow round,
Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure th' Eternal Master found
The single talent well employ'd.
The busy day, the peaceful night,
Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;
His frame was firm—his powers were bright,
Though now his eightieth year was nigh.
Then with no fiery throbbing pain,
No cold gradations of decay,
Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.