Car poems
/ page 20 of 738 /
Portable Demons
© Leggat Alexandra
I found the ghost of Dorothy Parkerin an old movie house in Times SquareI approached her with condolencesand slowly coerced her out of there
Cruelty and Love / Love on the Farm
© David Herbert Lawrence
Version 1 (1913)1.2Lifted, grasping the golden light1.3Which weaves its way through the creeper leaves1.4 To my heart's delight?
Salve Deus Rex Iudæorum
© Lanyer Æmilia
Now Pontius Pilate is to judge the CauseOf faultlesse Jesus, who before him stands;Who neither hath offended Prince, nor Lawes,Although he now be brought in woefull bands:O noble Governour, make thou yet a pause,Doe not in innocent blood imbrue thy hands; But heare the words of thy most worthy wife, Who sends to thee, to beg her Sauiours life
The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond
© Andrew Lang
THERE's an ending o' the dance, and fair Morag's safe in France,And the Clans they hae paid the lawing,And the wuddy has her ain, and we twa are left alane,Free o' Carlisle gaol in the dawing.
April
© Andrew Lang
April, pride of woodland ways, Of glad days,April, bringing hope of prime,To the young flowers that beneath Their bud sheathAre guarded in their tender time;
Fæsulan Idyl
© Walter Savage Landor
Here, where precipitate Spring with one light boundInto hot Summer's lusty arms expires;And where go forth at morn, at eve, at night,Soft airs, that want the lute to play with them,And softer sighs, that know not what they want;Under a wall, beneath an orange-treeWhose tallest flowers could tell the lowlier onesOf sights in Fiesole right up above,While I was gazing a few paces offAt what they seemed to show me with their nods,Their frequent whispers and their pointing shoots,A gentle maid came down the garden-stepsAnd gathered the pure treasure in her lap
Acon and Rhodope; or, Inconstancy
© Walter Savage Landor
The Year's twelve daughters had in turn gone by,Of measured pace tho' varying mien all twelve,Some froward, some sedater, some adorn'dFor festival, some reckless of attire
The Obstructionist
© Knox Edmund George Valpy
She was not built upon a beauteous plan; I did not like her face or features much,The lady who was talking to the man Behind the little hutch.
McAndrew's Hymn
© Rudyard Kipling
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always Steam
A Prayer for Grace
© Joussaye Marie
God grant me grace,Whenever I attempt a kindly deed,To help another in the hour of need; To do it cheerfully with smiling faceAnd willing hands, nor ever stop to heedThe sneers of those whose narrow souls and creed For Christ's broad charity can find no place
My Prayer
© Joussaye Marie
Ye who have struggled with me in the strife, Ye who have braved the conflict, fought and bled,My comrades on the battle-field of Life, Deal with me gently after I am dead.
London: A Poem, in Imitation of the Third Satire of Juvenal
© Samuel Johnson
Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel,
Drury-lane Prologue Spoken by Mr. Garrick at the Opening of the Theatre in Drury-Lane, 1747
© Samuel Johnson
When Learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foesFirst rear'd the stage, immortal Shakespear rose;Each change of many-colour'd life he drew,Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new:Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,And panting Time toil'd after him in vain:His pow'rful strokes presiding Truth impress'd,And unresisted Passion storm'd the breast
Flint and Feather
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.
Brier: Good Friday
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm, I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.
Outcast
© Hyde Robin
I care not if from shoulder now to feetThey strip my poor rags of pretence away --Torn lace of pride that once seemed very meet,Bedraggled crest that in the lists shone gay,And, with strange darker scarlet soaking through,The soiled wet scarlet of a tattered shoe
