All Poems
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On the Morning of Christ's Nativity
© John Milton
This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King,Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace
On the Lord General Fairfax at the Siege of Colchester
© John Milton
Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise, And all her jealous monarchs with amaze And rumours loud, that daunt remotest kings;Thy firm unshak'n virtue ever brings Victory home, though new rebellions raise Their hydra heads, and the false north displays Her brok'n league, to imp their serpent wings:O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand; For what can war but endless war still breed? Till Truth and Right from Violence be freed,And Public Faith clear'd from the shameful brand Of Public Fraud
I Feel I'm Growing Old
© Mills David
I feel I'm growing old, Mary, My heart is full of care,Time makes his furrow on my brow, His snows are on my hair;The brook still murmurs in the glen, That drives the creaking mill,And though I take the upward way, I'm going down the hill
Willie Winkie
© Miller William
WEE WILLIE WINKIE rins through the toon,Up stairs an doon stairs in his nicht-gown,Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock,"Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"
To Teach thy Base Thoughts Manners
© Middleton Thomas
To teach thy base thoughts manners: th'art one of thoseThat thinks each woman thy fond flexible whoreIf she but cast a liberal eye upon thee;Turn back her head, she's thine; or amongst company,By chance drink first to thee, then she's quite gone,There's no means to help her; nay, for a need,Wilt swear unto thy credulous fellow lechersThat th'art more in favour with a lady at first sightThan her monkey all her life time
Jesous Ahatonhia
© Middleton Jesse Edgar
'Twas in the moon of the winter time when all the birds had fledThat Mighty Gitshi Manitou sent angel-choirs instead
There's Nae Luck about the House
© William Mickle
And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he's weel?Is this a time to think o' wark? Mak haste, lay by your wheel;Is this the time to spin a thread When Colin's at the door?Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay And see him come ashore
Cumnor Hall
© William Mickle
The dews of summer nighte did falle, The moone (sweete regente of the skye)Silver'd the walles of Cumnor Halle, And manye an oake that grewe therebye.
Why the Dog Wags its Tail
© Meyer Bruce
The simple answer is economy. Whenever a moment requires yes, whenever sunlight fills a bouncing ball
Sunset at Brattaggia
© Meyer Bruce
Somewhere south of Naples on the coast, cut into the suede hillside where it clings
Sunday, January 16, 2005
© Meyer Bruce
Say you managed just one word more on a sheet as paper-white as snow; a footprint, a miracle, it pointed ahead and others followed dutifully as pets stopping only to look forward and seize unfolding years perched on blue lines, wires carrying voices from eternity, never faltering for phrases, life, or song
Mavety Street
© Meyer Bruce
When moonlight stole like guilty cats and summer owned the airI kissed your lips on Mavety Street
