All Poems
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Dirge
© William Gay
Cauld, cauld she lies where snaws are deep And bitter blaws the muirland win',And over her grave the icy stars Are keepin' watch abune.
The Crazy World
© William Gay
The World did say to me, "My bread thou shalt not eat,I have no place for thee In house nor field nor street.
Australian Federation
© William Gay
From all division let our land be free, For God has made her one: complete she lies Within the unbroken circle of the skies,And round her indivisible the seaBreaks on her single shore; while only we, Her foster children, bound with sacred ties Of one dear blood, one storied enterprise,Are negligent of her integrity
Australia
© William Gay
She sits a queen whom none shall dare despoil, Her crown the sun, her guard the vigilant sea, And round her throne are gathered, stalwart, free,A people proud, yet stooping to the soil,Patient to swell her greatness with their toil, And swift to leave, should dire occasion be, The mine, the flock, the desk, the furrowed lea,And force the invader to a dark recoil
Trivia; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London
© John Gay
Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful laysThe proper implements for wintry ways;Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes,To read the various warnings of the skies
Noël
© Théophile Gautier
Le ciel est noir, la terre est blanche;-- Cloches, carillonnez gaîment! --Jésus est né. -- La Vierge pencheSur lui son visage charmant.
Le Spectre de la Rose
© Théophile Gautier
Soulève ta paupière closeQu'effleure un songe virginal;Je suis le spectre d'une roseQue tu portais hier au bal
Le Pin des landes
© Théophile Gautier
On ne voit en passant par les Landes désertes,Vrai Sahara français, poudré de sable blanc,Surgir de l'herbe sèche et des flaques d'eaux vertesD'autre arbre que le pin avec sa plaie au flanc;
Car, pour lui dérober ses larmes de résine,L'homme, avare bourreau de la création,Qui ne vit qu'aux dépens de ceux qu'il assassine,Dans son tronc douloureux ouvre un large sillon!
Sans regretter son sang qui coule goutte à goutte,Le pin verse son baume et sa sève qui bout,Et se tient toujours droit sur le bord de la route,Comme un soldat blessé qui veut mourir debout
La Petite Fleur Rose
© Théophile Gautier
Du haut de la montagne,Près de Guadarrama,On découvre l'EspagneComme un panorama.
L'Art
© Théophile Gautier
Oui, l'œuvre sort plus belleD'une forme au travail Rebelle,Vers, marbre, onyx, émail.
Gascoigne's Lullaby
© George Gascoigne
Sing lullaby, as women do,Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;And lullaby can I sing to,As womanly as can the best
Our Crocodile
© Garnett Richard
Our crocodile, (Psammarathis,A priest at Ombi, told me this,)Our crocodile is good and dear,And eats a damsel once a year
Even-Star
© Garnett Richard
First-born and final relic of the night,I dwell aloof in dim immensity;The grey sky sparkles with my fairy light;I mix among the dancers of the sea;Yet stoop not from the throne I must retainHigh o'er the silver sources of the rain
The Widow's Croone
© Galt John
And maun I lanely spin the tow, And ca' the weary wheel,For cauld they lie,--where do they lie, The winsome and the leil?
The Selfish
© Galt John
There is a death, an apathy profoundAs that of those who in the churchyard lie,Although the sepulchres be above ground,Where rot these moral morts unconsciously
The Seamstress
© Galt John
Miss Peggy Pringle, meek and meager, pliesHer eydent needle from the earliest beam,And, far in night, by her lone candle triesTo eik her penury with thread and seam
A Scottish Welcome
© Galt John
And is it you, and are you come?Sit down, sit down in bye;Get up and pierce the bowie, Kate,This night we'll drink it dry.
