Car poems
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Tinkerin' At Home
© Edgar Albert Guest
Some folks there be who seem to need excitement fast and furious,
An' reckon all the joys that have no thrill in 'em are spurious.
Some think that pleasure's only found down where the lights are shining,
An' where an orchestra's at work the while the folks are dining.
Still others seek it at their play, while some there are who roam,
But I am happiest when I am tinkerin' 'round the home.
Noon
© William Cullen Bryant
'Tis noon. At noon the Hebrew bowed the knee
And worshipped, while the husbandmen withdrew
From the scorched field, and the wayfaring man
Grew faint, and turned aside by bubbling fount,
Or rested in the shadow of the palm.
Styx River Anthology
© Carolyn Wells
A parody of Edgar Lee Masters' "Spoon River Anthology," wherein characters from famous poems and novels recite their own epithets.
ANNABEL LEE
They may say all they like
About germs and micro-crocuses -
A Good World
© Edgar Albert Guest
IT'S a good old world we're livin' in
With all its pain an' sorrow;
An Officer Sets Forth His Hard Lot
© Confucius
My way leads forth by the gate on the north;
My heart is full of woe.
I hav'n't a cent, begged, stolen, or lent,
And friends forget me so.
So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say--a poor fellow like me?
Italy : 15. Luigi
© Samuel Rogers
Happy is he who loves companionship,
And lights on thee, Luigi. Thee I found,
Playing at Mora on the cabin-roof
With Punchinello. -- 'Tis a game to strike
The Duellist - Book II
© Charles Churchill
Deep in the bosom of a wood,
Out of the road, a Temple stood:
Roslin and Hawthornden
© Henry Van Dyke
FAIR Roslin Chapel, how divine
The art that reared thy costly shrine!
Thy carven columns must have grown
By magic, like a dream in stone.
A Boost For Modern Methods
© Edgar Albert Guest
In some respects the old days were perhaps ahead of these,
Before we got to wanting wealth and costly luxuries;
The Shepheardes Calender: December
© Edmund Spenser
I thee beseche (so be thou deigne to heare,
Rude ditties tund to shepheards Oaten reede,
Or if I euer sonet song so cleare,
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede)
Hearken awhile from thy greene cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.
An Epistle To Dr. Moore
© Helen Maria Williams
Whether dispensing hope, and ease
To the pale victim of disease,
Or in the social crowd you sit,
And charm the group with sense and wit,
Moore's partial ear will not disdain
Attention to my artless strain.
Stanzas Written By Thomson On The Blank Leaf Of A Copy Of His 'Seasons' Sent By Him To Mr. Lyttleton
© James Thomson
Go, little book, and find our Friend,
Who Nature and the Muses loves,
Who cares the public virtues blend
With all the softness of the groves.
The Martyrdom Of St. Christina, By Vincenzo Catena, In The Church Of Santa Maria Mater Domini, At Ve
© Richard Monckton Milnes
ST. CHRISTINA.
(KNEELING.)
I knew, I knew, it would be so,
That, in this long--expected hour,
The Last Coach
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Before her mirror in a pouting mood,
Afraid to weep lest anger should revoke
The Wild Colonial Boy
© Anonymous
'Tis of a wild Colonial Boy, Jack Doolan was his name,
Of poor but honest parents he was born in Castlemaine.
He was his father's only hope, his mother's pride and joy,
And dearly did his parents love the wild Colonial Boy.
The Glory of the Day Was In Her Face
© James Weldon Johnson
The glory of the day was in her face,
The beauty of the night was in her eyes.
And over all her loveliness, the grace
Of Morning blushing in the early skies.
Ode to Indolence
© William Shenstone
Ah! why for ever on the wing
Persists my wearied soul to roam?
Why, ever cheated, strives to bring
Or pleasure or contentment home?
