Poems begining by C
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Caesar's Song
© Mother Goose
Bow, wow, wow,Whose dog art thou?Little Tom Tinker's dog,Bow, wow, wow.
Conversation with a Widow
© Moritz Albert Frank
Uncle Johnny died after rigid yearsof cutting hair in his shop downtown
Capriccio of Roman Ruins
© Moritz Albert Frank
We, the living ones, are distinguishablefrom those we move among, people of stone,by the red and blue of our robes,the blood-glow of face, knee and arm
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.
Chinatown
© Meyer Bruce
A summer rain falls and dampens the smellof limp brown bok choy draped from boxescollected on the curbside of Spadina Avenueas an old woman turns over a ripe durian,touching its spines with a scientific curiosityand feeling its flesh for soft spots in the green
Cape Horn Gospel -- I
© John Masefield
"I was in a hooker once," said Karlssen,"And Bill, as was a seaman, died,So we lashed him in an old tarpaulinAnd tumbled him across the side;And the fun of it was that all his gear wasDivided up among the crewBefore that blushing human error,Our crawling little captain, knew
Crying in Sleep
© Marriott Anne
The old dog cries out in sleephis blind head pressedagainst my ankle.I run my hand for comfort
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
© John Lyly
Cupid and my Campaspe play'dAt cards for kisses--Cupid paid:He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;Loses them too; then down he throwsThe coral of his lip, the roseGrowing on's cheek (but none knows how);With these, the crystal of his brow,And then the dimple of his chin:All these did my Campaspe win
Cataract on Mount Lu
© Li Bai
The sunlit Censer peak exhales a wreath of cloud;Like an upended stream the cataract sounds loud.Its torrent dashes down three thousand feet from highAs if the Silver River fell from azure sky.
Cruelty and Love / Love on the Farm
© David Herbert Lawrence
Version 1 (1913)1.2Lifted, grasping the golden light1.3Which weaves its way through the creeper leaves1.4 To my heart's delight?
Cattle in Trucks
© King Edith L. M.
Poor cows, poor sheep,I weep, I weepTo see you packed so tight;While nought you knowOf where you goBy empty day and night.
Caelica: Sonnet 22
© Fulke Greville
I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head, I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,I, that mine own name in the chimneys read By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking: Must I look on, in hope time coming may With change bring back my turn again to play?
I, that on Sunday at the church-stile found A garland sweet, with true-love knots in flowers,Which I to wear about mine arm was bound, That each of us might know that all was ours: Must I now lead an idle life in wishes, And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes?
I, that did wear the ring her mother left, I, for whose love she gloried to be blamed,I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft, I, who did make her blush when I was named: Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked, Watching with sighs till dead love be awaked?
I, that, when drowsy Argus fell asleep, Like jealousy o'erwatched with desire,Was even warned modesty to keep, While her breath, speaking, kindled Nature's fire: Must I look on a-cold, while others warm them? Do Vulcan's brothers in such fine nets arm them?
Was it for this that I might Myra see Washing the water with her beauties white?Yet would she never write her love to me
Confessio Amantis, Book III: The Tale of Apollonius of Tyre
© John Gower
Appolinus his leve tok,To God and al the lond betokWith al the poeple long and brod,That he no lenger there abod
Cardinal Wolsey to his Dog
© Galt John
Sole remnant of a faithful train,Why lingerest thou when all are gone?Yet would I bribe thee to remainWith all the means I have,--this bone.
City of Huge Buildings
© Frank Florence Kiper
City of huge buildings into which men have poured their souls,City of innumerable schools where little children are taught and cared for,City of the great University, discussing solemn and learned questions,City of well-dressed, beautiful women, sleek, satisfied, sure of their clothes and of themselves,And their husbands sleek and satisfied also:I, a common prostitute, in the wan morning buying cocaine,Ask you the meaning of it all
Christ's Triumph after Death
© Giles Fletcher The Younger
IBegan to glister in her beams, and nowThe roses of the day began to flow'rIn th' eastern garden; for Heav'ns smiling browHalf insolent for joy begun to show: The early Sun came lively dancing out, And the brag lambs ran wantoning about,That heav'n, and earth might seem in triumph both to shout
Cales and Guyana
© John Donne
If you from spoil of th'old worlds farthest endTo the new world your kindled valors bend,What brave examples then do prove it trueThat one things end doth still begin a new.
