Car poems

 / page 322 of 738 /
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Unfortunate

© Rupert Brooke

She will not care. She'll smile to see me come,
So that I think all Heaven in flower to fold me.
She'll give me all I ask, kiss me and hold me,
And open wide upon that holy air
The gates of peace, and take my tiredness home,
Kinder than God. But, heart, she will not care.

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And love has changed to kindliness

© Rupert Brooke

When love has changed to kindliness --
Oh, love, our hungry lips, that press
So tight that Time's an old god's dream
Nodding in heaven, and whisper stuff

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Winter Sky

© Boris Pasternak

Ice-chips plucked whole from the smoke,

the past week’s stars all frozen in flight,

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A Ballad

© Charles Lamb

In a costly palace Youth goes clad in gold;
In a wretched workhouse Age's limbs are cold:
There they sit, the old men by a shivering fire,
Still close and closer cowering, warmth is their desire.

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The Storm

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Stooping over London, skies convulsed
With thunder moved: a rumour of storm remote
Hushed them, and birds flew troubled. The gradual clouds
Up from the West climbing, above the East

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Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 01

© Torquato Tasso

THE ARGUMENT.

Ismeno conjures, but his charms are vain;

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Welcome To Our Canadian Spring

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

We welcome thy coming, bright, sunny Spring,

  To this snow-clad land of ours,

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Funeral Of Youth, The: Threnody

© Rupert Brooke

The day that YOUTH had died,
There came to his grave-side,
In decent mourning, from the country's ends,
Those scatter'd friends

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Ode To Peace

© Henry Van Dyke

I

IN EXCELSIS

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Tale XVIII

© George Crabbe

THE WAGER.

Counter and Clubb were men in trade, whose pains,

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Flanders Fields

© Elizabeth Daryush

Here the scanted daisy glows
Glorious as the carmined rose;
Here the hill-top's verdure mean
Fair is with unfading green;
Here, where sorrow still must tread,
All her graves are garlanded.

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To F. W. N. A Birthday Offering

© John Henry Newman

Dear Frank, this morn has usher'd in
  The manhood of thy days;
A boy no more, thou must begin
  To choose thy future ways;
To brace thy arm, and nerve thy heart,
For maintenance of a noble part.

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Thorwaldsen

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Not in the fabled influence of some star,


Benign or evil, do our fortunes lie;

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The Old Vicarage, Granchester

© Rupert Brooke

Just now the lilac is in bloom,
All before my little room;
And in my flower-beds, I think,
Smile the carnation and the pink;

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The Little Dog's Day

© Rupert Brooke

All in the town were still asleep,
When the sun came up with a shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets unseen by man,
A little dog danced. And the day began.

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Requiescat

© Madison Julius Cawein

The roses mourn for her who sleeps

  Within the tomb;

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The Thumbed Collar

© Edgar Albert Guest

Go up and change your collar," mother often says to me,
"For you can't go out in that one, it's as dirty as can be.
There are splotches on the surface where they very plainly show."
"That is very queer," I answer, "it was clean an hour ago."
But I guess just what has happened, and in this it's clearly summed:
He who lets a baby love him often gets his collar thumbed.

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Whitechapel High Road

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Lusty life her river pours
Along a road of shining shores.
The moon of August beams
Mild as upon her harvest slopes; but here

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Le Balcon (The Balcony)

© Charles Baudelaire


Mère des souvenirs, maîtresse des maîtresses,
Ô toi, tous mes plaisirs! ô toi, tous mes devoirs!
Tu te rappelleras la beauté des caresses,
La douceur du foyer et le charme des soirs,
Mère des souvenirs, maîtresse des maîtresses!

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The Forester

© Robert Bloomfield

Born in a dark wood's lonely dell,

  Where echoes roar'd, and tendrils curl'd