Car poems
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An Allegory
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
A portal as of shadowy adamant
Stands yawning on the highway of the life
Which we all tread, a cavern huge and gaunt;
The Fan : A Poem. Book II.
© John Gay
But see, fair Venus comes in all her state;
The wanton Loves and Graces round her wait;
With her loose robe officious Zephyrs play,
And strow with odoriferous flowers the way.
In her right hand she waves the fluttering fan,
And thus in melting sounds her speech began.
To Sophronia.
© Mary Barber
Those who thy Favour once obtain,
Need not sollicit thee again;
Nor ever at Neglect repine:
Their Wishes and their Cares are thine:
Nor at the Grave thy Friendship ends;
But to Posterity descends.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - V
© Ezra Pound
2
Yet you ask on what account I write so many love-lyrics
And whence this soft book comes into my mouth.
Neither Calliope nor Apollo sung these things into my ear,
My genius is no more than a girl.
Beranger's "To My Old Coat"
© Eugene Field
Still serve me in my age, I pray,
As in my youth, O faithful one;
Critics Nightwatch
© Gwen Harwood
Once more he tried, before he slept,
to rule his ranks of words. They broke
from his planned choir, lolled, slouched and kept
their tone, their pitch, their meaning crude;
huddled in cliches; when pursued
turned with mock elegance to croak
Enceladus
© Alfred Noyes
And hungered, yet no comrade of the wolf,
And cold, but with no power upon the sun,
A master of this world that mastered him!
A Lamentacioun Of The Grene Tree, Complaynyng Of The Losyng Of Hire Appill.
© Thomas Hoccleve
Ofader god, how fers & how cruel, In whom the list or wilt, canst þou the make!Whom wilt thu spare? ne wot I neuere a deel,Sithe thu thi sone hast to the deth be-take,That the offended neuere, ne dide wrake, Or mystook him to the, or disobeyde,Ne to non othere dide he harm, or seide.
I had ioye éntiere, & also gladnesse, Whan þou be-took him me to clothe & wrappeIn mannës flesch. I wend, in sothfastnesse,Have had for euere Ioyë be the lappe;But now hath sorwe caught me with his trappe; Mi ioye hath made a permutaciounWith wepyng & eek lamentacioun.
Love Like Salt by Lisel Mueller: American Life in Poetry #16 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
There are thousands upon thousands of poems about love, many of them using predictable words, predictable rhymes. Ho-hum. But here the Illinois poet Lisel Mueller talks about love in a totally fresh and new way, in terms of table salt.
Love Like Salt
It lies in our hands in crystals
too intricate to decipher
Wild Grapes
© Kenneth Slessor
The old orchard, full of smoking air,
Full of sour marsh and broken boughs, is there,
But kept no more by vanished Mulligans,
Or Hartigans, long drowned in earth themselves,
Who gave this bitter fruit their care.
The Cathedral Porch
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Towering, towering up to the noon--blaze,
Up to the hot blue, up to blinding gold,
Pillar and pinnacle, arch and corbel, scrolled,
Flowered and tendrilled, soar, aspire and raise
Buttercups and Daisies
© Eliza Cook
I never see a young hand hold
The starry bunch of white and gold,
Sonnet LIX: Unhappy Pen
© Samuel Daniel
Unhappy pen and ill-accepted papers,
That intimate in vain my chaste desires,
On A Dog
© John Kenyon
Thy happy years of deep affection past,
Cartouche! our faithful friend, rest hereat last.
We loved thee for a love man scarce might mate;
And now we place thee here with sadness, great
As man may own for brute. Might less be given
To love so pure as thine and so unriven?
Epigram
© Thomas Parnell
The greatest Gifts that Nature does bestow,
Can't unassisted to Perfection grow:
The Temple of Fame
© Alexander Pope
In that soft season, when descending show'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;
Caliban Upon Rudiments Or Autoschediastic Theology In A Hole
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Rudiments, Rudiments, and Rudiments!
'Thinketh one made them i' the fit o' the blues.
The Australian Bell-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
And 'Oyez, Oyez' following after me
On my great errand to the sundown went.
Lost, lost, and lost, whenas the cross road flee
Up tumbled hills, on each for eyes attent
A carriage creepeth.
The Reverend Micah Sowls
© William Schwenck Gilbert
The REVEREND MICAH SOWLS,
He shouts and yells and howls,
He screams, he mouths, he bumps,
He foams, he rants, he thumps.
