All Poems
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Indoor Games near Newbury
© John Betjeman
In among the silver birches winding ways of tarmac wander And the signs to Bussock Bottom, Tussock Wood and Windy Brake,Gabled lodges, tile-hung churches, catch the lights of our Lagonda As we drive to Wendy's party, lemon curd and Christmas cake
An Incident in the Early Life of Ebenezer Jones, Poet, 1828
© John Betjeman
"We were together at a well-known boarding-school of that day (1828), situated at the foot of Highgate Hill, and presided over by a dissenting minister, the Rev
The Arrest of Oscar Wilde at the Cadogan Hotel
© John Betjeman
He sipped at a weak hock and seltzer As he gazed at the London skiesThrough the Nottingham lace of the curtains Or was it his bees-winged eyes?
Bug o' Night
© Benson Mary Josephine
Ghost of Icarus, rise and seeThis boast of Old Mortality,Called "Bug-O'-Night" by men that rideIn winged, sharded, whirring pride.On fateful mission high intent--Invaders of the firmament.
The Sparrow
© Benson Arthur Christopher
O pertest, most self-satisfied Of aught that breathes or moves,See where you sit, with head aside, To chirp your vulgar loves:Or raking in the uncleanly street You bolt your ugly meal,Undaunted by the approaching feet, The heedless splashing wheel
Self
© Benson Arthur Christopher
This is my chiefest torment, that behind The brave and subtle spirit, the swift brain, There sits and shivers, in a cell of pain,A groping atom, melancholy, blind,Which is myself; -- though, when spring suns are kind, And rich leaves riot in the genial rain, I cheat him, dreaming: slip my rigorous chain,Free as a skiff before the dancing wind
Land of Hope and Glory
© Benson Arthur Christopher
(1) 1902 Version: VI. Land of Hope and Glory. Finale (Contralto Solo and Tutti)
"I am Small and of no Reputation; Yet do I not Forget thy Commandments"
© Benson Arthur Christopher
How small a thing am I, of no repute, Whirled in the rush of these eternal tides; Spun daily round upon this orb that ridesAmong its peers, itself how most minute!
Courage
© Benson Arthur Christopher
I have been brave in my way, Though men did not call me brave;They deem that I creep away, If ever a pennon waveOver the flashing fray.
Upon being Asked by a Reader whether the Verses Contained in this Book were True.
© Hilaire Belloc
And is it True? It is not True
On Hygiene
© Hilaire Belloc
Of old when folk lay sick and sorely tried,The doctors gave them medicine and they died.Here is an happier age, for now we knowBoth how to make men sick and keep them so.
On his Books
© Hilaire Belloc
When I am dead, I hope it may be said:"His sins were scarlet, but his books were read."
On a Sleeping Friend
© Hilaire Belloc
Lady, when your lovely headDroops to sink among the Dead,And the quiet places keepYou that so divinely sleep;Then the dead shall blessèd beWith a new solemnity,For such Beauty, so descending,Pledges them that Death is ending
On a Dead Hostess
© Hilaire Belloc
Of this bad world the loveliest and the bestHas smiled and said "Good Night," and gone to rest.
Jim, Who Ran away from his Nurse, and was Eaten by a Lion
© Hilaire Belloc
There was a Boy whose name was Jim;His Friends were very good to him
Fatigued
© Hilaire Belloc
I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.But Money gives me pleasure all the time.
Child! do not Throw this Book about
© Hilaire Belloc
Child! do not throw this book about; Refrain from the unholy pleasureOf cutting all the pictures out! Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.
Avril
© Rémy Belleau
Avril, l'honneur et des bois Et des mois;Avril, la douce espéranceDes fruicts qui sous le coton Du boutonNourrissent leur jeune enfance;
Visualization of Marxism
© Bell Julian Heward
Expose the world, anatomize,Strip clothes from skin, strip skin, then flesh, from bone
