Car poems
/ page 29 of 738 /To Daughter Ann, New Year's Day, 1567
© Cecil William
As years do grow, so cares increase,And time will move to look to thrift
A Leak in the Dike
© Cary Phoebe
The good dame looked from her cottage At the close of the pleasant day,And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play:"Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see,To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me;And take these cakes I made for him-- They are hot and smoking yet;You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set
I Remember, I Remember
© Cary Phoebe
I remember, I remember, The house where I was wed,And the little room from which, that night, My smiling bride was led;She didn't come a wink too soon, Nor make too long a stay;But now I often wish her folks Had kept the girl away!
I remember, I remember, Her dresses, red and white
"The Day is Done"
© Cary Phoebe
The day is done, and darkness From the wing of night is loosed,As a feather is wafted downward From a chicken going to roost.
The Annoyer
© Cary Phoebe
"Common as light is love. And its familiar voice wearies not ever." Shelley.
A Capital Ship for an Ocean Trip
© Charles Edward Carryl
A capital ship for an ocean trip Was "The Walloping Window-blind;"No gale that blew dismayed her crew Or troubled the captain's mind
A Lilliputian Ode on their Majesties Accession
© Henry Carey
Smile, smile,Blest Isle!Grief past,(At last)HalcyonComes on
An Elegy upon the Death of the Dean of St. Paul's, Dr. John Donne
© Thomas Carew
Can we not force from widow'd poetry,Now thou art dead (great Donne) one elegyTo crown thy hearse? Why yet dare we not trust,Though with unkneaded dough-bak'd prose, thy dust,Such as th' unscissor'd churchman from the flowerOf fading rhetoric, short-liv'd as his hour,Dry as the sand that measures it, should layUpon thy ashes, on the funeral day?Have we no voice, no tune? Didst thou dispenseThrough all our language, both the words and sense?'Tis a sad truth
Lines to Mr. Hodgson Written on Board the Lisbon Packet
© George Gordon Byron
Huzza! Hodgson, we are going, Our embargo's off at last;Favourable breezes blowing Bend the canvass o'er the mast
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: Canto the Third
© George Gordon Byron
I Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smil'd, And then we parted--not as now we part, But with a hope
And Thou art Dead, as Young and Fair
© George Gordon Byron
And thou art dead, as young and fair As aught of mortal birth;And form so soft, and charms so rare, Too soon return'd to Earth!Though Earth receiv'd them in her bed,And o'er the spot the crowd may tread In carelessness or mirth,There is an eye which could not brookA moment on that grave to look
No Baby in the House
© Burtchaell Clara G.
No baby in the house, I know, -- 'Tis far too nice and clean;No toys by careless fingers strewn, Upon the floors are seen