Car poems
/ page 189 of 738 /
The Last Review
© Henry Lawson
Turn the light down, nurse, and leave me, while I hold my last review,
For the Bush is slipping from me, and the town is going too:
Draw the blinds, the streets are lighted, and I hear the tramp of feet
And Im weary, very weary, of the Faces in the Street.
The Straight Goer
© William Henry Ogilvie
The ringing, hanging hen-roost thief-we have no use for him;
When they tear him up and eat him not a single eye grows dim;
Returning to Songshan Mountain
© Wang Wei
Clear river belt long thin
Cart horse go idle idle
Flow water like have desire
A Million Young Work Men
© Carl Sandburg
A million young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads,
And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red roses.
Within and Without: Part I: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Robert.
Head in your hands as usual! You will fret
Your life out, sitting moping in the dark.
Come, it is supper-time.
The Outlaw
© Charles Kingsley
Oh, I wadna be a yeoman, mither, to follow my father's trade,
To bow my back in miry banks, at pleugh and hoe and spade.
Stinting wife, and bairns, and kye, to fat some courtier lord,-
Let them die o' rent wha like, mither, and I'll die by sword.
The Christening
© Caroline Norton
So let it be! and when the noble head
Of thy true-hearted father, babe beloved,
Now glossy dark, is silver-gray instead,
And thy young birth-day far away removed;
Still may'st thou be a comfort and a joy,--
Still welcome as this day, unconscious boy!
Echoes Of Spring
© Mathilde Blind
I.
I WALK about in driving snow,
And drizzling rain, splashed o'er and o'er;
No sign that radiant spring e'en now
Stands at the threshold of the door.
What Smith Knew About Farming
© James Whitcomb Riley
There wasn't two purtier farms in the state
Than the couple of which I'm about to relate;--
The Brus Book XV
© John Barbour
[The Scots win a great battle at Connor]
Quhen thai within has sene sua slayn
Depuis six mille ans la guerre
© Victor Marie Hugo
Depuis six mille ans la guerre
Plait aux peuples querelleurs,
Et Dieu perd son temps à faire
Les étoiles et les fleurs.
Sonnet 98: Ah Bed, The field Where Joy's Peace
© Sir Philip Sidney
Ah bed, the field where joy's peace some do see,
The field where all my thought to war be train'd,
How is thy grace by my strange fortune stain'd!
How thy lee shores by my sighs stormed be!
Theory
© Wallace Stevens
Women understand this.
One is not duchess
A hundred yards from a carriage.
These, then are portraits:
A black vestibule;
A high bed sheltered by curtains.
A Christmas Song
© Alaric Alexander Watts
The present moment's all our own,
The next, who ever saw! ~ Mickle.
Advice To A Raven In Russia (1812)
© Joel Barlow
Black fool, why winter here? These frozen skies,
Worn by your wings and deafen'd by your cries,
