Car poems
/ page 322 of 738 /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.
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
Winter Sky
© Boris Pasternak
Ice-chips plucked whole from the smoke,
the past weeks stars all frozen in flight,
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.
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
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 01
© Torquato Tasso
THE ARGUMENT.
Ismeno conjures, but his charms are vain;
Welcome To Our Canadian Spring
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
We welcome thy coming, bright, sunny Spring,
To this snow-clad land of ours,
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
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.
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.
Thorwaldsen
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Not in the fabled influence of some star,
Benign or evil, do our fortunes lie;
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;
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.
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.
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
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!
The Forester
© Robert Bloomfield
Born in a dark wood's lonely dell,
Where echoes roar'd, and tendrils curl'd