Car poems

 / page 183 of 738 /
star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Lessons of English

© Boris Pasternak

And when Ophelia sang a ballad-
In her last hours among the living-
All dryness of her soul was carried
Aloft by gusts of wind, like cinders.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Dunciad: Book III.

© Alexander Pope

But in her Temple's last recess inclos'd,

On Dulness' lap th' Anointed head repos'd.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Accession

© John Keble

The voice that from the glory came

  To tell how Moses died unseen,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

A Wreath Of Sonnets (9/14)

© France Preseren

They were all fed on many a plaint and tear
The humble blooms on my Parnassus grown;
My tears of love flowed not for you alone,
But also for the land I hold so dear.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer

© James Whitcomb Riley

The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'

  locus' trees;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Elm

© Robert Laurence Binyon

O that I had a tongue, that could express
Half of that peace thou ownest, darkling Tree!
A slumber, shaded with the heaviness
That droops thy leaves, hangs deeply over me.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Fishermen

© John Greenleaf Whittier

HURRAH! the seaward breezes
Sweep down the bay amain;
Heave up, my lads, the anchor!
Run up the sail again!

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Days when we went Swimming

© Henry Lawson

The breezes waved the silver grass,

  Waist-high along the siding,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Heraclitus

© William Johnson Cory

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,

  They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Unsettled Scores

© Edgar Albert Guest

The men are talking peace at 'ome, but 'ere we're talking fight,
There's many a little debt we've got to square;
A sniper sent a bullet through my bunkie's 'ead last night,
And 'is body's lying somewhere h'over there.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Ode A La Fortune

© Jean-Baptiste Rousseau

Fortine dont la main couronne

Les forfaits les plus inouis,

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Off Shore

© Celia Thaxter

Rock, little boat, beneath the quiet sky,
Only the stars behold us where we lie, -
Only the stars and yonder brightening moon

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Fit The Seventh - The Banker's Fate

© Lewis Carroll

But while he was seeking with thimbles and care,
A Bandersnatch swiftly drew nigh
And grabbed at the Banker, who shrieked in despair,
For he knew it was useless to fly.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

He Called Her In

© James Whitcomb Riley

I

He called her in from me and shut the door.

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Little Left Hand - Act III

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Interior of a Church--Davis, Bradshaw, and others.
Davis.  The sword of the Lord and the sword of Gideon!
It was good To see the red--coats run before our multitude.
We broke them by sheer numbers--

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Legend Of The Stone

© Madison Julius Cawein

The year was dying, and the day

  Was almost dead;

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Poet's Apology

© Aristophanes

Our poet has never as yet

  Esteemed it proper or fit

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

Will And I

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

I.
WE roam the hills together,
In the golden summer weather,
Will and I:

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

On The Death Of Mr. Fox

© George Gordon Byron

THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN A MORNING PAPER:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'

star nullstar nullstar nullstar nullstar null

The Wail Of The Waiter

© Marcus Clarke

All day long, at Scott's or Menzies', I await the gorging crowd,

Panting, penned within a pantry, with the blowflies humming loud,