Car poems
/ page 173 of 738 /Fand, A Feerie Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
In the land of the living are kingdoms twain,
Kingdoms twain,--nay, kingdoms three;
One is of sunshine and one of rain,
And one of the moonlight without a stain.
The moonlight people, of these are we,
The ever--happy, the Sidhe, the Sidhe.
The Coo Of The Cushat
© Ada Cambridge
Over the smooth lawns, broider'd with violets,
Over the hedges of snow-white thorn,
Over the billowy, pink apple-blossoms,
The musical coo of the cushat is borne.
Heads And Tails
© Franklin Pierce Adams
If a single man is studious and quiet, people say
He is grouchy, he is old before his time;
If he's frivolous and flippant, if he treads the primrose way,
Then they mark him for a wild career of crime.
To A Friend Studying German
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VILL'ST dou learn die Deutsche Sprache?
Denn set it on your card,
Dat all the nouns have shenders,
Und de shenders all are hard.
A Meeting
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Quite carelessly I turned the newsy sheet;
A song I sang, full many a year ago,
Smiled up at me, as in a busy street
One meets an old-time friend he used to know.
Lines Written Under The Conviction That It Is Not Wise To Read Mathematics In November After Ones F
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,
When the leaf has left the lime,
The Papal Benediction, From St. Peters
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Higher than ever lifted into space,
Rises the sove'ran dome,--
Into the Colonnade's immense embrace
Flows all the life of Rome;
To Sergei Esenin
© Vladimir Mayakovsky
You have passed, as they say, into worlds elsewhere.
Emptiness...
Fly, cutting your way into starry dubiety.
No advances, no pubs for you there.
Accolon Of Gaul: Part IV
© Madison Julius Cawein
Hate, born of Wrath and mother red of Crime,
In Hell was whelped ere the hot hands of time,
Children's Playground In The City
© Edith Nesbit
THIS is a place where men laid their dead,
Each with his life-tale of good or ill;
The Unhappy Lot Of Mr. Knott
© James Russell Lowell
My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,
From business snug withdrawn,
Was much contented with a lot
That would contain a Tudor cot
'Twixt twelve feet square of garden-plot,
And twelve feet more of lawn.
Sticky Fingers
© Edgar Albert Guest
Wife says that I should be ashamed
To wear such garments as I do,
Prose
© Stéphane Mallarme
Hyperbole! From my memory
Triumphantly cant you
Rise today, like sorcery
From an iron-bound book or two:
The Murdered Lover
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Say a mass for my soul's repose, my brother,
Say a mass for my soul's repose, I need it,
Lovingly lived we, the sons of one mother,
Mine was the sin, but I pray you not heed it.
From the Persian of Hafiz I
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Butler, fetch the ruby wine,
Which with sudden greatness fills us;
A Little Child Shall Lead Them
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Eagerly he grasped the writing;
"I am free!" at last he said.
Backward fell upon the pillow,
He was free among the dead.
Arcadia Rediviva
© James Russell Lowell
I, walking the familiar street,
While a crammed horse-car jingled through it,
Was lifted from my prosy feet
And in Arcadia ere I knew it.
In the Wood
© Boris Pasternak
Blurred by a lilac heat, the meadows:
in the wood, cathedral shadows swirled.