Car poems
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A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Hanging Of Black Kudjo
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WELL, Maussa! if you wants to heer, I'll tell you 'bout um 'true.
Doh de berry taut ob dat bad time is fit to tun me blue;
A sort ob brimstone blue on black, wid jist a stare o' wite,
As when dem cussed Tory come fur wuck deir hate dat nite!
To The Right Honourable The Lady Sarah Cowper.
© Mary Barber
Let me the Honour soon obtain,
For which I long have hop'd in vain;
Since I, alas! am now confin'd,
Your Visit would be doubly kind.
The Judgment Of Paris
© Thomas Parnell
Where waving Pines the brows of Ida shade,
The swain young Paris half supinely laid,
Saw the loose Flocks thro' shrubs unnumber'd rove
And Piping call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the Message of the skies,
That he the Judge of Beauty deal the prize.
At Penshurst
© Edmund Waller
Had Sacharissa lived when mortals made
Choice of their deities, this sacred shade
Letter From The Town Mouse To The Country Mouse
© Horace Smith
I.
Oh for a field, my friend; oh for a field!
"Each morning I pass on my way to work"
© Lesbia Harford
Each morning I pass on my way to work
A clock in a tower
And I look towards it with anxious eyes
To make sure of the hour.
The Complaint and the Consolation.
© Mather Byles
I.
Where shall I find my Lord, my Love,
The Sov'reign of my Soul?
Pensive from East to West I rove,
And range from Pole to Pole.
Grey
© Ada Cambridge
Is the morning dim and cloudy? Does the wind drift up the leaves?
Is there mist upon the mountains, where the sun shone yesterday?
Are the little song-birds silent? Is the sky all blurred and grey?
Does the rain fall, patter, patter, from the eaves?
The Bell-Founder Part II - Triumph And Reward
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
In the furnace the dry branches crackle, the crucible shines as with
gold,
As they carry the hot flaming metal in haste from the fire to the mould;
Loud roars the bellows, and louder the flames as they shrieking escape,
Unfinished History
© Archibald MacLeish
WE HAVE loved each other in this time twenty years
And with such love as few men have in them even for
Speech Of Honourable Preserved Doe In Secret Caucus
© James Russell Lowell
But I've talked longer now 'n I hed any idee,
An' ther's others you want to hear more 'n you du me;
So I'll set down an' give thet 'ere bottle a skrimmage,
For I've spoke till I'm dry ez a real graven image.
Late Loved--Well Loved
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
He stood beside her in the dawn
(And she his Dawn and she his Spring),
The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy
© Richard Harris Barham
With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'
The Conversion Of St. Paul
© John Keble
The mid-day sun, with fiercest glare,
Broods o'er the hazy twinkling air:
Along the level sand
The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies,
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise
To greet you wearied band.
