Car poems
/ page 224 of 738 /
Unser Gott
© Karle Wilson Baker
(Yea, "Unser Gott! Our strength is Unser Gott!
Not that light-minded Bon Dieu of France!")
A Bard's Epitaph
© Robert Burns
Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;
And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.
From The Cross
© John Donne
Who can blot out the Cross, which thinstrument
Of God, dewd on me in the Sacrament?
Douro
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The dripping of the boughs in silence heard
Softly; the low note of some lingering bird
Amid the weeping vapour; the chill fall
Of solitary evening upon all
By The Camp Fire
© Ada Cambridge
Ah, 'twas but now I saw the sun flush pink on yonder placid tide;
The purple hill-tops, one by one, were strangely lit and glorified;
And yet how sweet the night has grown, with palest starlights dimly sown!
On An Apple-Ripe September Morning
© Patrick Kavanagh
On an apple-ripe September morning
Through the mist-chill fields I went
With a pitch-fork on my shoulder
Less for use than for devilment.
Limerick: There was a Young Lady Whose Bonnet
© Edward Lear
There was a Young Lady whose bonnet,
Came untied when the birds sate upon it;
But she said: 'I don't care!
All the birds in the air
Are welcome to sit on my bonnet!'
When It's Bad To Forget
© Edgar Albert Guest
DID you ever meet a brother as you hurried on your way
And invite him up to dinner, and his wife;
The Lust Of The World
© Madison Julius Cawein
SINCE Man first lifted up his eyes to hers
And saw her vampire beauty, which is lust,
All else is dust
Within the compass of the universe.
Christmas Greeting
© Edgar Albert Guest
I DO not care to wait until the hand of death has smoothed your brow
Before I say what's in my heart, I'd rather tell it to you now.
I'd rather say: "How glad I am to know your cheery voice and smile,"
Than stand and say "how glad I was" in some grief-stricken after-while.
I'd rather shout: "how good you are!" than sniffle out: "how good was he!"
And so I take this Christmas Day to say you have a friend in me.
A Poet Leaving Athens
© Walter Savage Landor
Speak not too ill of me, Athenian friends!
Nor ye, Athenian sages, speak too ill!
The Mary (A Sea-Side Sketch)
© Thomas Hood
Lov'st thou not, Alice, with the early tide
To see the hardy Fisher hoist his mast,
And stretch his sail towards the ocean wide,
Like God's own beadsman going forth to cast
The Bacchanal Of Alexander
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
A wondrous rumour fills and stirs
The wide Carmanian Vale;
On leafy hills the sunburnt vintagers
John James Audobon
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Some men live for warlike deeds,
Some for womens words.
John James Audubon
Lived to look at birds.
To Edward Williams
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
The serpent is shut out from Paradise.
The wounded deer must seek the herb no more
In which its heart-cure lies:
To Mr. Harley - Wounded by Guiscard
© Matthew Prior
In one great now, superior to an age,
The full extremes of nature's force we find:
How heavenly virtue can exalt, or rage
Infernal how degrade the human mind.
Outward Bound
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I leave behind me the elm-shadowed square
And carven portals of the silent street,
