Car poems
/ page 314 of 738 /
Charles Augustus Fortescue, Who always Did what was Right, and so accumulated an Immense Fortune.
© Hilaire Belloc
The nicest child I ever knew
Was Charles Augustus Fortescue.
He never lost his cap, or tore
His stockings or his pinafore:
In eating Bread he made no Crumbs,
He was extremely fond of sums,
The Grave Of Howard
© William Lisle Bowles
Spirit of Death! whose outstretched pennons dread
Wave o'er the world beneath their shadow spread;
Gavota
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Señor, Dios mío: no vayas
a querer desfigurar
mi pobre cuerpo, pasajero
más que la espuma del mar.
Tom's Garland: Upon the Unemployed
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Tomgarlanded with squat and surly steel
Tom; then Tom's fallowbootfellow piles pick
The Dog and the Water Lily. No Fable
© William Cowper
The noon was shady, and soft airs
Swept Ouses silent tide,
To A. Patchett Martin
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
I 'VE something of the bulldog in my breed,
The spaniel is developed rather less,
While life is in me I can fight and bleed,
But never the chastising hand caress.
To the Portrait of "A Lady"
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Well, Miss, I wonder where you live,
I wonder whatâs your name,
The Land Of The Dawning
© George Essex Evans
Darkrose her shore in seas of amethyst
By tropic breezes kissed,
Faith
© Edith Nesbit
Lord, when my eyes see nothing but grey
In all Thy world that is now so green,
I will bethink me of this spring day
And the house of welcome, known yet unseen;
The wall that conceals
And the faith that reveals.
"`Were I a Poet, I would dwell"
© Alfred Austin
`Were I a Poet, I would dwell,
Not upon lonely height,
Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 3
© Edward Taylor
Like to the marigold, I blushing close
My golden blossoms when Thy sun goes down:
Moist'ning my leaves with dewy sighs, half froze
By the nocturnal cold, that hoars my crown.
Mine apples ashes are in apple-shells
And dirty too: strange and bewitching spells!
Explanation Of An Ancient Woodcut
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Soon as the spring-sun meets his view,
Repose begets him labour anew;
He feels that he holds within his brain
A little world, that broods there amain,
And that begins to act and to live,
Which he to others would gladly give.
Southampton Water
© William Lisle Bowles
Smooth went our boat upon the summer seas,
Leaving, for so it seemed, the world behind,
Sonnet 143: "Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch..."
© William Shakespeare
Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch
One of her feather'd creatures broke away,
The Dying Stockman
© Anonymous
A strapping young stockman lay dying,
His saddle supporting his head;
His two mates around him were crying,
As he rose on his elbow and said:
The Dark Lady Sonnets (127 - 154)
© William Shakespeare
CXXVII
In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
Comfort of the Fields
© Archibald Lampman
What would'st thou have for easement after grief,
When the rude world hath used thee with despite,
And care sits at thine elbow day and night,
Filching thy pleasures like a subtle thief?
