Car poems
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The Man To Follow
© William Henry Ogilvie
Apart from the crowd with its banter and mirth,
Sitting loose on his mare with an eye to the whins,
Not Crossing Bridges
© Edgar Albert Guest
MEBBE I shall weep tomorrow,
Mebbe I shall lose my job,
Mebbe bowed in grief and sorrow
I shall sit alone and sob.
Falling Stars.
© Robert Crawford
Only a falling star!
What was it to him
If millions of mortals were
Hurled down the dim
Letter To Maria Gisborne
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The spider spreads her webs, whether she be
In poet's tower, cellar, or barn, or tree;
The silk-worm in the dark green mulberry leaves
His winding sheet and cradle ever weaves;
The Author Upon Himself
© Jonathan Swift
By an old pursued,
A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise;
Hesiod: Or, The Rise Of Woman
© Thomas Parnell
Gold-scepter'd Juno next exalts the Fair;
Her Touch endows her with imperious Air,
Self-valuing Fancy, highly-crested Pride,
Strong sov'reign Will, and some Desire to chide:
For which, an Eloquence, that aims to vex,
With native Tropes of Anger, arms the Sex.
The Botanic Garden (Part VI)
© Erasmus Darwin
"Born in yon blaze of orient sky,
"Sweet MAY! thy radiant form unfold;
"Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,
"And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.
On A Very Old Woman
© William Makepeace Thackeray
And thou wert once a maiden fair,
A blushing virgin warm and young:
With myrtles wreathed in golden hair,
And glossy brow that knew no care
Upon a bridegroom's arm you hung.
God Has Denied Me...
© Zygmunt Krasinski
The roots of lilies probe my corpse. It shines,
A white goblet wonderfully transformed,
A lantern corpse that fills the night with signs,
- And the music of the soul makes silence alarmed.
You dim the lamp and ask the music to
Keep silent that my spirit may sleep through.
The Ghetto
© Lola Ridge
Cool, inaccessible air
Is floating in velvety blackness shot with steel-blue lights,
But no breath stirs the heat
Leaning its ponderous bulk upon the Ghetto
And most on Hester street…
L'Homme Moyen Sensuel
© Ezra Pound
Yet Radway went. A circumspectious prig!
And then that woman like a guinea-pig
Accosted, that's the word, accosted him,
Thereon the amorous calor slightly frosted him.
(I burn, I freeze, I sweat, said the fair Greek,
I speak in contradictions, so to speak.)
Cyder: Book I
© John Arthur Phillips
What Soil the Apple loves, what Care is due
To Orchats, timeliest when to press the Fruits,
Thy Gift, Pomona, in Miltonian Verse
Adventrous I presume to sing; of Verse
Nor skill'd, nor studious: But my Native Soil
Invites me, and the Theme as yet unsung.
On The Death Of A Believer
© John Newton
In vain my fancy strives to paint
The moment after death
The glories that surround the saint,
When yielding up its breath.
Via Amoris
© Edith Nesbit
If this were Love why should I turn away?
Am I not, too, made of the common clay?
Is life so fair, am I so fortunate,
I can refuse the capricious gift of Fate,
The sudden glory, the unhoped-for flowers,
The transfiguration of my earthly hours?
The Annunciation Of The Blessed Virgin
© John Keble
Oh! Thou who deign'st to sympathise
With all our frail and fleshly ties,
Maker yet Brother dear,
Forgive the too presumptuous thought,
If, calming wayward grief, I sought
To gaze on Thee too near.
An Inventor
© Augusta Davies Webster
I thought this time 'twas done at last,
the workings perfected, the life in it;
and there's the flaw again, the petty flaw,
the fretting small impossibility
that has to be made possible.
Dialogue In Verse
© Christopher Marlowe
_Friend._ Let him give her gay gold rings
Or tufted gloves, were they ne'er so [gay];
[F]or were her lovers lords or kings,
They should not carry the wench away.
The Old Leaven
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
Maurice:
No, Mark, I'm not so easily cross'd;
'Tis true that I've had a run
Of bad luck lately; indeed, I've lost;
Well! somebody else has won.
