Retirement Poems

Popular Retirement Poems
Ch 01 Manner Of Kings Story 15
by Saadi Shirazi

A vezier, who had been removed from his post, entered the circle of dervishes and the blessing of their society took such effect upon him that he became contented in his mind. When the king was again favourably disposed towards him and ordered him to resume his office, he refused and said: "Retirement is better than occupation."

Those who have sat down in the corner of safety
Have bound the teeth of dogs and tongues of men.
They tore the paper up and broke the pen
And are saved from the hands and tongues of slanderers.

The king said: "Verily we stand in need of a man of sufficient intelligence who is able to carry on the administration of the government." He replied: "It is a sign of sufficient intelligence not to engage in such matters."

The homa excels all other birds in nobility

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Memory
by William Wordsworth

A pen--to register; a key--
That winds through secret wards
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.

As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;


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Ode To Beauty
by Mary Darby Robinson

EXULTING BEAUTY,­phantom of an hour,
Whose magic spells enchain the heart,
Ah! what avails thy fascinating pow'r,
Thy thrilling smile, thy witching art?
Thy lip, where balmy nectar glows;
Thy cheek, where round the damask rose
A thousand nameless Graces move,
Thy mildly speaking azure eyes,
Thy golden hair, where cunning Love
In many a mazy ringlet lies?

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Calling Lucasta From Her Retirement. Ode
by Richard Lovelace

I.
From the dire monument of thy black roome,
Wher now that vestal flame thou dost intombe,
As in the inmost cell of all earths wombe.

II.
Sacred Lucasta, like the pow'rfull ray
Of heavenly truth, passe this Cimmerian way,
Whilst all the standards of your beames display.


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Reflections On Having Left A Place Of Retirement
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Low was our pretty Cot : our tallest Rose
Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear
At silent noon, and eve, and early morn,
The Sea's faint murmur. In the open air
Our Myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch
Thick Jasmins twined : the little landscape round
Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye.
It was a spot which you might aptly call
The Valley of Seclusion ! Once I saw
(Hallowing his Sabbath-day by quiteness)

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Recent Retirement Poems
Slow Motion
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

My zealous passion for marathons, had me in frequent races,
Striving always for that finish line, and touring many places.

I always seemed to come alive, with cool breezes rushing by,
Feeling footloose and fancy-free, like blackbirds in a blue sky.

And when I crossed the finish line, I would get a certain thrill,
Like a thrilling moonlit evening, as you hear the whippoorwill!

I was in the midst of happy days, like magnolias awash in sun,

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Memory
by William Wordsworth

A pen--to register; a key--
That winds through secret wards
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.

As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;


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Retirement
by Henry Vaughan

Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face,
God's foot-stool, and man's dwelling-place.
I ask not why the first Believer
Did love to be a country liver?
Who to secure pious content
Did pitch by groves and wells his tent;
Where he might view the boundless sky,
And all those glorious lights on high;
With flying meteors, mists and show'rs,
Subjected hills, trees, meads and flow'rs;

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Upon The Priory Grove, His Usual Retirement
by Henry Vaughan

Hail sacred shades! cool, leavy House!
Chaste treasurer of all my vows,
And wealth! on whose soft bosom laid
My love's fair steps I first betrayed:
Henceforth no melancholy flight,
No sad wing, or hoarse bird of night,
Disturb this air, no fatal throat
Of raven, or owl, awake the note
Of our laid echo, no voice dwell
Within these leaves, but Philomel.

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Retirement
by Henry Timrod

My gentle friend! I hold no creed so false
As that which dares to teach that we are born
For battle only, and that in this life
The soul, if it would burn with starlike power,
Must needs forsooth be kindled by the sparks
Struck from the shock of clashing human hearts.
There is a wisdom that grows up in strife,
And one -- I like it best -- that sits at home
And learns its lessons of a thoughtful ease.
So come! a lonely house awaits thee! -- there

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