Car poems
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Grace Jennings Carmicheal
© Henry Lawson
I hate the pen, the foolscap fair,
The poets corner, and the page,
A Message Of Jeff Davis In Secret Session
© James Russell Lowell
I sent you a messige, my friens, t'other day,
To tell you I'd nothin' pertickler to say:
When The Duke of Clarence Died
© Henry Lawson
LET US sing in tear-choked numbers how the Duke of Clarence went,
Just to make a royal sorrow rather more pre-eminent.
Ladies sighed and sobbed and drivelledtoadies spoke with bated breath,
And the banners floating half-mast made a mockery of death,
And they said Australia sorrowed for the Princes deaththey lied!
She had done with kings and princes ere the Duke of Clarence died.
The Visions Of Bellay
© Edmund Spenser
IT was the time, when rest soft sliding downe
From heauens hight into mens heauy eyes,
Lines On Seeing My Wife And Two Children Sleeping In The Same Chamber
© Thomas Hood
And has the earth lost its so spacious round,
The sky its blue circumference above,
That in this little chamber there is found
Both earth and heavenmy universe of love!
Martha And Mary
© John Newton
Martha her love and joy expressed
By care to entertain her guest;
While Mary sat to hear her Lord,
And could not bear to lose a word.
The Heathen Chinee
© Francis Bret Harte
Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.
Don Juan: Canto The Twelfth
© George Gordon Byron
Of all the barbarous middle ages, that
Which is most barbarous is the middle age
How few are we. Probably three...
© Boris Pasternak
How few are we. Probably three
In all-coallike, burning, infernal
Beneath the grey bark of the tree
Of wisdom, and clouds, and eternal
Debate on verse, transport, the part
The army will play-and on art.
Thoughts on Imputed Righteousness - Occasioned by Reading Theron and Aspasio : Part IV.
© John Byrom
What num'rous texts from Paul, from ev'ry saint,
Might furnish our citations, did we want?
A Long-Felt Want
© Carolyn Wells
One day wee Willie and his dog
Sprawled on the nursery floor.
He had a florist's catalogue,
And turned the pages o'er,
My Room
© George MacDonald
But when, sinking slow, the sun
Leaves the glowing curtain dun,
I, of prophet-insight reft,
Shall be dull and dreamless left;
I must hasten proof on proof,
Weaving in the warp my woof!
Paulo Purganti And His Wife: An Honest, But A Simple Pair
© Matthew Prior
On marry'd Men, that dare be bad,
She thought no Mercy should be had;
They should be hang'd, or starv'd, or flead,
Or serv'd like Romish Priests in Swede.-
In short, all Lewdness She defy'd:
And stiff was her Parochial Pride.
Tale XII
© George Crabbe
'SQUIRE THOMAS; OR THE PRECIPITATE CHOICE.
'Squire Thomas flatter'd long a wealthy Aunt,
The Borough. Letter XXIV: Schools
© George Crabbe
pride, -
Their room, the sty in which th' assembly meet,
In the close lane behind the Northgate-street;
T'observe his vain attempts to keep the peace,
Till tolls the bell, and strife and troubles cease,
Maui Victor
© Johannes Carl Andersen
Unhewn in quarry lay the Parian stone,
Ere hands, god-guided, of Praxiteles
The Poet's Death
© John Clare
The world is taking little heed
And plods from day to day:
The vulgar flourish like a weed,
The learned pass away.
