Car poems
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Nocturne
© Charles Cros
Bois frissonnants, ciel étoilé,
Mon bien-aimé sen est allé,
Emportant mon cur désolé!
Sonnet XXI. To Cyriac Skinner
© John Milton
Cyriac, whose grandsire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc'd and in his volumes taught our laws
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
Human Life
© Samuel Rogers
An hour like this is worth a thousand passed
In pomp or ease - 'Tis present to the last!
Years glide away untold - 'Tis still the same!
As fresh, as fair as on the day it came!
The Curse Of The Wandering Foot
© James Whitcomb Riley
All hope of rest withdrawn me?--
What dread command hath put
A Nuptial Eve
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
The murmur of the mourning ghost
That keeps the shadowy kine,
'Oh, Keith of Ravelston,
The sorrows of thy line!'
A Song In Three Parts
© Jean Ingelow
The white broom flatt'ring her flowers in calm June weather,
'O most sweet wear;
Forty-eight weeks of my life do none desire me,
Four am I fair,'
Thespis: Act II
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury
Above The Oxbow
© Sylvia Plath
Here in this valley of discrete academies
We have not mountains, but mounts, truncated hillocks
Written In A Seat At Stoke Park, Near The Vicararage-House, Then Inhabited By The Author, And Comman
© Henry James Pye
Not with more joy from the loud tempest's roar,
The dangerous billow, and more dangerous shore,
Rimas LXXV
© Gustavo Adolfo Becquer
?Sera verdad que cuando toca el sueno
Con sus dedos de rosa nuestros ojos
De la carcel que habita huye el espiritu
En vuelo presuroso?
It's thoughtsand just One Heart
© Emily Dickinson
It's thoughtsand just One Heart
And Old Sunshineabout
Make frugalOnesContent
And two or threefor Company
Upon a Holiday
Crowdedas Sacrament
At Long Bay
© Henry Kendall
FIVE years ago! you cannot choose
But know the face of change,
Though July sleeps and Spring renews
The gloss in gorge and range.
The Frontier-Land
© Roderic Quinn
YOU of the past, are you present?
Draw nearer! my heart is sore.
Was yours the fall of the foot in the hall?
Was yours the face at the door?
The English Padlock
© Matthew Prior
Since This has been Authentick Truth,
By Age deliver'd down to Youth;
Tell us, mistaken Husband, tell us,
Why so Mysterious, why so Jealous?
Does the Restraint, the Bolt, the Bar
Make Us less Curious, Her less Fair?
The Wit And The Beau
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Strephon with change of Habits press'd,
And urg'd her to admire;
His Love alone the Other dress'd,
As Verse, or Prose became it best,
And mov'd her soft Desire.
An Evening Dream
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
I'm leaning where you loved to lean in eventides of old,
The sun has sunk an hour ago behind the treeless wold,
The Old Wooden Tub
© Edgar Albert Guest
I like to get to thinking of the old days that are gone,
When there were joys that never more the world will look upon,
The days before inventors smoothed the little cares away
And made, what seemed but luxuries then, the joys of every day;
When bathrooms were exceptions, and we got our weekly scrub
By standing in the middle of a little wooden tub.
