All Poems
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If I should die
© Benjamin Franklin King
If I should die to-night And you should come to my cold corpse and say, Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay -- If I should die to-night,And you should come in deepest grief and woe -- And say: "Here's that ten dollars that I owe," I might arise in my large white cravat And say, "What's that?"
If I should die to-night And you should come to my cold corpse and kneel, Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel, I say, if I should die to-nightAnd you should come to me, and there and then Just even hint 'bout payin' me that ten, I might arise the while, But I'd drop dead again
Endymion
© John Keats
BOOK IIts loveliness increases; it will neverPass into nothingness; but still will keepA bower quiet for us, and a sleepFull of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing
Yozgad XXIV: War that begins in Man in nations ends
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
War that begins in Man in nations endsTo an appointed purpose
Yozgad IV: How like an ocean is existence here
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
Yozgad is situated in a remote and high valley of the Anatolian tableland
Unto this Last
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
"UNTO this last" -- what is there in this WordShould so betray the grasping World and meThat any other meaning is prefer'dThan the plain truth, "This last as unto thee"?
The Prisoner's Road
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
There is a road where silence stalks,Where man, since his first dawn arose,Out as upon an ocean walksInto the desert, where who goesAs one of a long captive train,May share the thoughts of them that weptBy Babylonian waters, and againBow down in sorrow where they slept
The Poem of a Prisoner of War, 1917
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
I have been one of the fortunate ones of the Earth,Having gazed upon Beauty and Truth all my days,And I had no need to think or to write concerning them,But when Beauty and Truth were withdrawn from meI found I could no longer live without them,But I was obliged to keep them ever by my side,I therefore wrote of them, and to write I thought of them,And by thinking kept them with me and they stayed
A Lament
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
The Broussa evening fades in night;The stars appear serene and bright;Ah! would that they might shed their lightOn you and me together.
And this my hope sits high for time must pass
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
NINETEEN SONNETS(OLD STYLE)
It's a Long Way to Tipperary
© Judge Jack
Up to mighty London came an Irishman one day,As the streets are paved with gold, sure ev'ryone was gay;Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square,Till Paddy got excited, then he shouted to them there:
[Chorus] It's a long way to Tipperary, It's a long way to go; It's a long way to Tipperary To the sweetest girl I know! Goodbye Piccadilly, Farewell, Leicester Square, It's a long, long way to Tipperary, But my heart's right there! Paddy wrote a letter to his Irish Molly O', Saying, "Should you not receive it, write and let me know!""If I make mistakes in 'spelling,' Molly, dear," said he,"Remember it's the pen that's bad, don't lay the blame on me
Two Poets
© Joussaye Marie
There lived a poet once, a famous bard, Whose muse, arrayed in robes of misty light,Soared high above the common herd of men
A Prayer for Grace
© Joussaye Marie
God grant me grace,Whenever I attempt a kindly deed,To help another in the hour of need; To do it cheerfully with smiling faceAnd willing hands, nor ever stop to heedThe sneers of those whose narrow souls and creed For Christ's broad charity can find no place
Only a Working Girl
© Joussaye Marie
I know I am only a working girl, And I am not ashamed to sayI belong to the ranks of those who toil For a living, day by day
The Ninety and Nine
© Joussaye Marie
"There are Ninety and Nine who must live and die In hunger and want and cold,That one may revel in luxury, Enwrapped in its silken fold,And the one owns houses, and gold, and lands,But the Ninety and Nine have empty hands
My Prayer
© Joussaye Marie
Ye who have struggled with me in the strife, Ye who have braved the conflict, fought and bled,My comrades on the battle-field of Life, Deal with me gently after I am dead.
The Honest Working Man
© Joussaye Marie
As through the world we take our way How oftentimes we hearThe praises sung of wealthy men, Of prince, and duke and peer
The Metamorphosed Gypsies
© Benjamin Jonson
The fairy beam upon you,The stars to glister on you; A moon of light In the noon of night,Till the fire-drake hath o'ergone you
Epigrams: To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with John Donne's Satires
© Benjamin Jonson
Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who areLife of the Muses' day, their morning star!If works, not th' author's, their own grace should look,Whose poems would not wish to be your book?But these, desir'd by you, the maker's endsCrown with their own
