Car poems

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The Meeting

© Pierre Louys

Treasure-like, I found her in a field
under a myrtle hedge, wrapped from her
throat to her feet in a yellow robe broidered
with blue. 'I have no friend,' she told me,

Fragment XIII

© James Macpherson

His spear leaned against the mossy rock.
His shield lay by him on the grass.
Whilst he thought on the mighty Carbre
whom he slew in battle, the scout of
the ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil.

The Mermaid

© George MacDonald

Up cam the tide wi' a burst and a whush,
And back gaed the stanes wi' a whurr;
The king's son walkit i' the evenin hush,
To hear the sea murmur and murr.

Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Student's Second Tale; The Baron of St. Castine

O sun, that followest the night,
In yon blue sky, serene and pure,
And pourest thine impartial light
Alike on mountain and on moor,
Pause for a moment in thy course,
And bless the bridegroom and the bride!

The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society

© Oliver Goldsmith

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow

Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,

At The Feast

© Edith Nesbit

EVOLVING, changing, onwards still we press--
We must advance, invent, construct, possess;
No matter what a price we have to pay,
We must obtain perfection, and no less--

Mencius

© Sarah Knowles Bolton

Three centuries before the Christian age

China's great teacher, Mencius, was born;

"What ails you, Ocean, that nor near nor far"

© Alfred Austin

The Mountains
What ails you, Ocean, that nor near nor far,
Find you a bourne to ease your burdened breast,
But throughout time inexorable are
Never at rest?

Catawba Wine. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This song of mine
Is a Song of the Vine,
To be sung by the glowing embers
Of wayside inns,
When the rain begins
To darken the drear Novembers.

Don Juan: Canto The Sixth

© George Gordon Byron

'There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,

Sail

© Mikhail Lermontov

A lonely sail is flashing white
Amdist the blue mist of the sea!…
What does it seek in foreign lands?
What did it leave behind at home?..

To The Duke Of Dorset

Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,

Exploring every path of Ida's glade;

Fragment XIV

Whence the son of Mugruch, Duchommar
the most gloomy of men? Dark
are thy brows of terror. Red thy rolling
eyes. Does Garve appear on the
sea? What of the foe, Duchommar?

Dream-House

I WENT to the house of the Lady of Dreams
For a dream to carry away
That should ferry me over the blackest streams
I had to cross by day;

The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost

We Who Were Executed

I longed for your lips, dreamed of their roses:
I was hanged from the dry branch of the scaffold.
I wanted to touch your hands, their silver light:
I was murdered in the half-light of dim lanes.