Business poems
/ page 10 of 49 /L'ADUCAZZIONE (Education)
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
Fijo, nun ribbartà mai tata tua:
Abbada a tte, nun te fà mette sotto.
Si quarchiduno te viè a dà un cazzotto,
Lì callo callo tu dajene dua.
A Day At Tivoli - Prologue
© John Kenyon
Yet, if All die, there are who die not All;
(So Flaccus hoped), and half escape the pall.
The Sacred Few! whom love of glory binds,
"That last infirmity of noble minds,
"To scorn delights, and live laborious days,"
A Remembrance
© Bliss William Carman
HERE in lovely New England
When summer is come, a sea-turn
Flutters a page of remembrance
In the volume of long ago.
The Dream
© George Gordon Byron
IX.
MY dream was past; it had no further change.
It was of a strange order, that the doom
Of these two creatures should be thus traced out
Almost like a reality - the one
To end in madness - both in misery.
Paradise Lost : Book I.
© John Milton
Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
The Thief
© Abraham Cowley
Thou robb'st my days of business and delights,
Of sleep thou robb'st my nights ;
Don Juan: Canto The Seventh
© George Gordon Byron
O Love! O Glory! what are ye who fly
Around us ever, rarely to alight?
Il Y A Cent Ans
© George Meredith
That march of the funereal Past behold;
How Glory sat on Bondage for its throne;
How men, like dazzled insects, through the mould
Still worked their way, and bled to keep their own.
The Master
© Oscar Wilde
Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea,
having lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill into
the valley. For he had business in his own home.
The First Booke Of Qvodlibets
© Robert Hayman
Though my best lines no dainty things affords,
My worst haue in them some thing else then words.
An Epistle To George William Curtis
© James Russell Lowell
Curtis, whose Wit, with Fancy arm in arm,
Masks half its muscle in its skill to charm,
Foma Bobrov And His Spouse
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
GRANNY Bobrov (Playing patience) Now that's the card. Oh, it's all coming out topsy-turvy! A king. And where am I supposed to put that? Just when you want one, there's never a five around. Oh, I could do with a five! Now it'll be the five. Oh, sod it, another king!
She flings the cards on to the table with such force that a porcelain vase falls off the table and smashes.
The Farmer Of Tilsbury Vale
© William Wordsworth
'TIS not for the unfeeling, the falsely refined,
The squeamish in taste, and the narrow of mind,
And the small critic wielding his delicate pen,
That I sing of old Adam, the pride of old men.
Birdwatchers Of America
© Anthony Evan Hecht
Its all very well to dream of a dove that saves,
Picassos or the Popes,
Mason And Slidell: A Yankee Idyll
© James Russell Lowell
Wut! they ha'n't hanged 'em?
Then their wits is gone!
Thet's the sure way to make a goose a swan!
The Borough. Letter VIII: Trades
© George Crabbe
share -
'Tis small: we boast not these rich subjects here,
Who hazard thrice ten thousand pounds a-year;
We've no huge buildings, where incessant noise
Is made by springs and spindles, girls and boys;
Where, 'mid such thundering sounds, the maiden's
On Don Surly
© Benjamin Jonson
Don Surly, to aspire the glorious name
Of a great man, and to be thought the same,
Dream Song 2
© John Berryman
The jane is zoned! no nightspot here, no bar
there, no sweet freeway, and no premises
for business purposes,
no loiterers or needers. Henry are
baffled. Have ev'ybody head for Maine,
utility-man take a train?