All Poems

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The Old Man's Complaints. And how he gained them

© Robert Southey

You are old, Father William, the young man cried, The few locks which are left you are grey;You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason I pray.

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Your Fellow Americans

© Souster Raymond

Best peoplebest country

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'Twas the Second Day before Christmas

© Souster Raymond

While they last all manger accessoriesmarked drastically down --

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To the Canadian Poets, 1940

© Souster Raymond

Come, my little eunuchs, my tender virgins,it's high time you were home and in bed.The wind's cold and strong in the streets now,and it's almost ten o'clock.

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Short Short Song

© Souster Raymond

When Susi smiles I'm happy,when Susi's sad I'm sad.So as long as we're togetherlet the whole world go mad!

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Riding the Thundering Horse

© Souster Raymond

To be told in print at age sixty-threethat you're not a poetbecause what you write aren't poems,isn't the help it might have beenat, say, twenty-three

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Queen Anne's Lace

© Souster Raymond

It's a kind of flowerthat if you didn't know ityou'd pass by the rest of your life.

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November 24, 1992

© Souster Raymond

November squatson the ruins of the yearready to shit out winter.

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Night on the Uplands

© Souster Raymond

A fire on such a warm night?Crazy, wasn't it, but then

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Gwen

© Souster Raymond

At the poetry readingin Croft House, she wrote downher phone-number on a piece of paper,said, give me a call some time.

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Four Girls at the Corner

© Souster Raymond

Waiting for a fixfour girls at the corner,three about eighteen,the fourth not morethan thirteen, I swear,Not one day more.

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Flight of the Roller-Coaster

© Souster Raymond

(Old Sunnyside Beach, Toronto)

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The Face of the Plasterer

© Souster Raymond

The face of the plasterer

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Aftermath

© Souster Raymond

After the earthquake has struckman and his puny buildings down,

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Recipe for a Salad

© Smith Sydney

To make this condiment your poet begs

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My Dear G.

© Smith Sydney

My dear G

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Here Lies Poor Nick

© Smith Sydney

Here lies poor Nick, an honest creature,Of faithful, gentle, courteous nature;A parlour pet unspoil'd by favour,A pattern of good dog behaviour

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Answer to an Invitation to Dine at Fishmongers Hall

© Smith Sydney

Much do I love, at civic treat,The monsters of the deep to eat;To see the rosy salmon lying,By smelts encircled, born for frying;And from the china boat to pour,On flaky cod, the flavour'd shower