Car poems

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Report From The Besieged City

© Zbigniew Herbert

I am supposed to be exact but I don't know when the invasion began
two hundred years ago in December in September perhaps yesterday at dawn
everyone here suffers from a loss of the sense of time

Nature The Consoler

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

GLADLY I hail these solitudes, and breathe
The inspiring breath of the fresh woodland air,
Most gladly to the past alone bequeath
Doubt, grief, and care;

Elegy XIX. - Written in Spring, 1743

© William Shenstone

Again the labouring hind inverts the soil;
Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave;
Another spring renews the soldier's toil,
And finds me vacant in the rural cave.

Thoughts on Imputed Righteousness - Occasioned by Reading Theron and Aspasio : Part II.

© John Byrom

To shun much novel sentiment and nice,

I take the thing from its apparent rise;

The Shakespeare Memorial

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Lord Lilac thought it rather rotten

That Shakespeare should be quite forgotten,

Sleep of the Body the Soul's Awakening

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

Every night Thou freest our spirits from the body

And its snare, making them pure as rased tablets.

Lara. A Tale

© George Gordon Byron

Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."

Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle (You Would Take The Whole World To Bed With You)

© Charles Baudelaire

Tu mettrais l'univers entier dans ta ruelle,
Femme impure! L'ennui rend ton âme cruelle.
Pour exercer tes dents à ce jeu singulier,
Il te faut chaque jour un coeur au râtelier.

The Mountain Of The Lovers

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

I.
LOVE scorns degrees! the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,

"Who claims our Shakespeare from that realm unknown,
Beyond the storm-vexed islands of the deep,
Where Genoa's roving mariner was blown?
Her twofold Saint's-day let our England keep;
Shall warring aliens share her holy task?"
The Old World echoes ask.

A Statesman

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

Captain be he, my England, who doth know

Not careful coasts, with inland welcomes warm;

Parting

A man is standing in the hall
His house not recognizing.
Her sudden leaving was a flight,
Herself, maybe, surprising.

From North Wales: To The Mother

When the summer gave us a longer day,
And the leaves were thickest, I went away:
Like an isle, through dark clouds, of the infinite blue,
Was that summer-ramble from London and you.