Art poems
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"Too Low And Yet Too High."
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HE came in velvet and in gold;
He wooed her with a careless grace;
A confidence too rashly bold
Breathed in his language and his face.
The Ghost - Book IV
© Charles Churchill
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
Death Of An Old Carriage Horse
© George Moses Horton
The order of the day
Was push, the peal of every tongue,
The only word was all the way,
Push along, push along.
Poem Read At The Dinner Given To The Author By The Medical Profession Of The City Of New York, April
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Good was the dinner, better was the talk;
Some whispered, devious was the homeward walk;
The story came from some reporting spy,
They lie, those fellows, oh, how they do lie!
Not ours those foot-tracks in the new-fallen snow,
Poets and sages never zigzagged so!
On the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To the Lord Privy Seal
Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
To a Lady, with Some Coloured Patterns of Flowers
© William Shenstone
Madam,-
Though rude the draughts, though artless seem the lines,
Sin
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is a legend of an old Hartz tower
That tells of one, a noble, who had sold
The Princes Quest - Part the Sixth
© William Watson
Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out
The green heart of the waters round about,
A Torchbearer
© Edith Wharton
Great cities rise and have their fall; the brass
That held their glories moulders in its turn.
On The Death Of Thomas Bailey Aldrich
© William Stanley Braithwaite
There is a pause in meeting before speech
Between men who have fed their souls with song;
The strangeness of an echo beyond reach
Cleaves silence deep for speech to pass along.
There are no words to tell the loss, but each
Of our hearts feels the sorrow deep and strong.
The Winner
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
The hulk of a man with a beer in his hand looked like a drunk old fool,
And I knew that if I hit him right, I could knock him off that stool.
But everybody said, "Watch out, that's Tiger Man McCool.
He's had a whole lot of fights, and he always come out the winner.
Yeah, he's a winner."
Introductory Verses
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
OH! blest art thou, whose steps may rove
Through the green paths of vale and grove,
Or, leaving all their charms below,
Climb the wild mountain's airy brow;
A Day of Dream
© Henry Kendall
On that bold hill, against a broad blue stream,
stood Arthur Phillip on a day of dream;
A Ioyfull medytacyon to all Englonde of the coronacyon of our moost naturall souerayne lorde kynge H
© Stephen Hawes
The prologue
The prudent problems/& the noble werkes
Of the gentyll poetes in olde antyquyte
Unto this day hath made famous clerkes
The Rose
© Robert Southey
Nay EDITH! spare the rose!--it lives--it lives,
It feels the noon-tide sun, and drinks refresh'd
The Goring
© Sylvia Plath
Arena dust rusted by four bulls' blood to a dull redness,
The afternoon at a bad end under the crowd's truculence,
The ritual death each time botched among dropped capes, ill-judged
stabs,
The strongest will seemed a will towards ceremony. Obese, dark-
Faced in his rich yellows, tassels, pompons, braid, the picador
The Bridal of Pennacook
© John Greenleaf Whittier
No bridge arched thy waters save that where the trees
Stretched their long arms above thee and kissed in the breeze:
No sound save the lapse of the waves on thy shores,
The plunging of otters, the light dip of oars.
