Car poems
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The Passing Of A Heart
© James Whitcomb Riley
O touch me with your hands--
For pity's sake!
My brow throbs ever on with such an ache
As only your cool touch may take away;
And so, I pray
You, touch me with your hands!
The Lepers Betrothed
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
To clasp his spirit undefiled, my spirit leaped beneath my hand,
He said no sad reproach to me, but only, "Love, I understand."
O coward my eyes that would not see, held slaves 'neath closing finger-tips;
O coward my flesh that would not let my spirit's whisper through your lips.
Sancho Sanchez
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Sancho Sanchez lay a--dying in the house of Mariquita,
For his life ebbed with the ebbing of the red wound in his side.
And he lay there as they left him when he came from the Corrida
In his gold embroidered jacket and his red cloak and his pride.
The Faithful Few: An Ode
© William Hamilton
While Pow'r triumphant bears unrival'd Sway,
Propt by the Aid of all-prevailing Gold;
While bold Corruption blasts the Face of Day,
And Men, in Herds, are offer'd to be sold;
Select, Urania, from the venal Throng,
The Faithful Few, to grace the deathless Song!
Rondel. (From The Duke Of Orleans)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Hence away, begone, begone,
Carking care and melancholy!
May, 1918
© John Jay Chapman
Again my eyes upon the night were turned.
The central darkness bloomed, androbed in state
While her great works about her burned
Sate France enthronèd and incoronate!
Ceux qui vivent, ce sont ceux qui luttent
© Victor Marie Hugo
Ceux qui vivent, ce sont ceux qui luttent ; ce sont
Ceux dont un dessein ferme emplit l'âme et le front.
Ceux qui d'un haut destin gravissent l'âpre cime.
Ceux qui marchent pensifs, épris d'un but sublime.
Abram Morrison
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'Midst the men and things which will
Haunt an old man's memory still,
Drollest, quaintest of them all,
With a boy's laugh I recall
Good old Abram Morrison.
The Grain Tribute
© Bai Juyi
There came an officer knocking by night at my door
In a loud voice demanding grain-tribute.
A Wreath Of Sonnets (11/14)
© France Preseren
As over them malignant storm clouds flew,
Your poet's days were but disgust, despair;
By all the furies harried, he nowhere
Could find release nor any rest he knew.
Liberty
© Edward Thomas
The last light has gone out of the world, except
This moonlight lying on the grass like frost
Toplesstown
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Talk about a hit! They're packed in and linin' up
A cover and a minimum--coffee $2 a cup
Lucy's pullin' down a thousand a week with tips and all
Workin' double shifts while startin' to bitch how
Her arches are beginning to fall.
Free
© Alfred Austin
Joy! Free, at last, from vulgar thrall:
No longer need my voice be dumb;
And quicker far than thou canst call,
O Italy, I come!
A Wren's Nest
© William Wordsworth
AMONG the dwellings framed by birds
In field or forest with nice care,
Is none that with the little Wren's
In snugness may compare.
A Parlourmaid
© Lesbia Harford
"I want a parlourmaid."
"Well, let me see
If you were God, what kind of maid she'd be."
"She would be tall,
The Better Part
© Matthew Arnold
Long fed on boundless hopes, O race of man,
How angrily thou spurn'st all simpler fare!
The Ghost, the Gallant, the Gael, and the Goblin
© William Schwenck Gilbert
O'er unreclaimed suburban clays
Some years ago were hobblin'
The Writer's Dream
© Henry Lawson
And the last that were born of a noble racewhen the page of the South was fair
The last of the conquered dwelt in peace with the last of the victors there.
He saw their hearts with the authors eyes who had written their ancient lore,
And he saw their lives as hed dreamed of suchah! many a year before.
And Ill write a book of these simple folk ere I to the world return,
And the cold who read shall be kind for theseand the wise who read shall learn.
Dead Leaves
© Edward Booth Loughran
When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
