Car poems
/ page 190 of 738 /
"Is There A Bitter Pang For Love Removed"
© Thomas Hood
That love might die with sorrow:I am sorrow;
And she, that loves me tenderest, doth press
Most poison from my cruel lips, and borrow
Only new anguish from the old caress;
Oh, this world's grief
Hath no relief
I Took His Dreams
© Margaret Widdemer
I TOOK his dreams from him,
Boy-dreams of gold and red,
I gave him sorrows dim,
White grief, instead, . . .
And for a little space
Joy in my careless face.
Nemesis
© Arthur Henry Adams
All things must fade. There is for cities tall
The same tomorrow as for daffodils:
Time's wind, that casts the seed, the petal spills.
Grim London's ruined arches yet shall fall
Breitmann In Politics
© Charles Godfrey Leland
VHEN ash de var vas ober, und Beace her shnow-wice vings
Vas vafin' o'er de coondry (in shpodts) like efery dings
Und heroes vere revardtet, de beople all pegan
To say 'tvas shame dat nodings vas done for Breitemann.
Tirocinium; or, a Review of Schools
© William Cowper
It is not from his form, in which we trace
Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace,
Sleep - (from Valentinian)
© Beaumont and Fletcher
Care-charming sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to death; sweetly thyself dispose
Epitaph For A Shepherdess
© Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
Beloved maidens! Playful and carefree,
You sing, you dance and frolic in the glades.
Coronation Ode
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
O Thou enfolded in grief,
Man, with thy mantle of scorn!
Arise and warn!
Unloved prophet of ill
Amusing Trial, in Which a Yankee Lawyer Rendered a Just Verdict.
© Anonymous
And seek his fortune, he could find
Another master half so kind,
And who would give so large a share
Of the small pittance he could spare,
And every privilege could grant,
Which he could need or ever want;
The Camp
© Mary Darby Robinson
Tents, marquees, and baggage waggons;
Suttling-houses, beer in flagons;
Stanzas In Meditation: Stanza XV
© Gertrude Stein
Should they may be they might if they delight
In why they must see it be there not only necessarily
Avenue In Savernake Forest
© William Lisle Bowles
How soothing sound the gentle airs that move
The innumerable leaves, high overhead,
The Mask Of Anarchy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
Rosamund
© Jean Ingelow
I dwell where England narrows running north;
And while our hay was cut came rumours up
Humming and swarming round our heads like bees:
The Three Pilgrims
© Archibald Lampman
In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing,
And hearts were weary and nigh to break,
A sweet grave man with a beautiful bearing
Came to us once in the fields and spake.
What She Said
© Katharine Tynan
She said: Would I might sleep
With the bulbs I plant so deep,
Forgetting all the long Winter
That I must awake and weep.
An Anniversary
© Ada Cambridge
AS flower to sun its drop of dew
Gives from its crystal cup,
So I, as morning gift to you,
This poor verse offer up.
II.
Riding Round the Lines
© Henry Lawson
Dust and smoke against the sunrise out where grim disaster lurks
And a broken sky-line looming like unfinished railway works,
And a trot, trot, trot and canter down inside the belt of mines:
It is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is riding round his lines.
