Car poems
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The Disconcerted Tenor
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A tenor, all singers above
(This doesn't admit of a question),
Pastiche
© Mathilde Blind
LOVE, oh, Love's a dainty sweeting,
Wooing now, and now retreating;
Brightest joy and blackest care,
Swift as light, and light as air.
A Man Perishing in the Snow: From Whence Reflections are Raised on the Miseries of Life.
© James Thomson
As thus the snows arise; and foul and fierce,
All winter drives along the darken'd air;
In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain
Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend,
To a Skylark
© William Wordsworth
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
The Poet And The Muse
© Alfred Austin
Whither, and whence, and why hast fled?
Thou art dumb, my muse; thou art dumb, thou art dead,
As a waterless stream, as a leafless tree.
What have I done to banish thee?
Sonnet 112: "Your love and pity doth the impression fill,..."
© William Shakespeare
Your love and pity doth the impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
When Mother Combed My Hair
© James Whitcomb Riley
When Memory, with gentle hand,
Has led me to that foreign land
To The Lord Chancellor
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Thy country's curse is on thee, darkest crest
Of that foul, knotted, many-headed worm
Which rends our Mothers bosomPriestly Pest!
Masked Resurrection of a buried Form!
An Heroical Epistle of Hudibras to Sidrophel
© Samuel Butler
Ecce Iterum Crispinus. -
WELL! SIDROPHEL, though 'tis in vain
Of The Nature Of Things: Book IV - Part 05 - The Passion Of Love
© Lucretius
This craving 'tis that's Venus unto us:
From this, engender all the lures of love,
The Queen Of Hearts
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
How comes it, Flora, that, whenever we
Play cards together, you invariably,
However the pack parts,
Still hold the Queen of Hearts?
Port Bou
© Stephen Spender
As a child holds a pet,
Arms clutching but with hands that do not join,
And the coiled animal watches the gap
To outer freedom in animal air,
Elegiac Stanzas
© William Lisle Bowles
When I lie musing on my bed alone,
And listen to the wintry waterfall;
And many moments that are past and gone,
Moments of sunshine and of joy, recall;
The Spirits of Our Fathers
© Henry Lawson
THE SPIRITS of our fathers rise not from every wave,
They left the sea behind them long ago;
It was many years of slogging, where strong men must be brave,
For the sake of unborn children, and, maybe, a soul to save,
And the end a tidy homestead, and four panels round a grave,
Andthe bones of poor old Someone down below.
To The Irish Delegates
© Henry Lawson
FAREWELL! The gold we send shall be a token
Of that which in our hearts is growing strong;
You asked our sympathy, and we have spoken
They wrong us who our brothers rob and wrong.
The Defeat of Youth
© Aldous Huxley
I. UNDER THE TREES.
There had been phantoms, pale-remembered shapes
The Two Ogres
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Good children, list, if you're inclined,
And wicked children too -
This pretty ballad is designed
Especially for you.
The Heritage
© James Russell Lowell
The rich man's son inherits lands,
And piles of brick and stone, and gold,
