Car poems
/ page 155 of 738 /
Gunpowder Treason
© John Keble
Beneath the burning eastern sky
The Cross was raised at morn:
The widowed Church to weep stood by,
The world, to hate and scorn.
Vision Of Columbus - Book 6
© Joel Barlow
Naval action of De Grasse and Graves. Capture of Cornwallis..
Thus view'd the sage. When, lo, in eastern skies,
Oh you Knid, you are vile and vermicious....
© Roald Dahl
Oh you Knid, you are vile and vermicious!
You are slimy and soggy and squishous!
But what do we care
'Cause you can't get in here,
So hop it and don't get ambitious!
A Glance Behind The Curtain
© James Russell Lowell
We see but half the causes of our deeds,
Seeking them wholly in the outer life,
My Birthday
© Charles Lamb
A dozen years since in this house what commotion,
What bustle, what stir, and what joyful ado;
Every soul in the family at my devotion,
When into the world I came twelve years ago.
The Creditor To His Proud Debtor
© George Moses Horton
Ha, tott'ring Johny, strut and boast,
But think of what your feathers cost;
Your crowing days are short at most,
You bloom but soon to fade;
Sister to Sister
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'When I received that love which is a face,
When I perceived that face which is a love,
Gods Acre
© Conrad Aiken
She prods a plantain
Of too ambitious root. That largest yew-tree,
Clutching the hill
Scherzando
© William Ernest Henley
Down through the ancient Strand
The spirit of October, mild and boon
And sauntering, takes his way
This golden end of afternoon,
As though the corn stood yellow in all the land,
And the ripe apples dropped to the harvest-moon.
In A Garden
© Madison Julius Cawein
The pink rose drops its petals on
The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn;
Daybreak
© Gwen Harwood
The snails brush silver. Critic crow
points his unpleasant beak, and lances.
Resumes his treetop, darts below
his acid-bright, corrosive glances.
Prelude
© William Watson
The mighty poets from their flowing store
Dispense like casual alms the careless ore;
Abba Thule's Lament For His Son Prince Le Boo
© William Lisle Bowles
I climb the highest cliff; I hear the sound
Of dashing waves; I gaze intent around;
The Hamadryad
© Walter Savage Landor
Her lips were seald; her head sank on his breast.
T is said that laughs were heard within the wood:
But who should hear them? and whose laughs? and why?
