Car poems
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Song Of The Rail
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Oh, an ugly thing is an iron rail,
Black, with its face to the dust.
But it carries a message where winged things fail;
It crosses the mountains, and catches the trail,
While the winds and the sea make sport of a sail;
Oh, a rail is a friend to trust.
Recollections Of A Faded Beauty
© Caroline Norton
There was a certain Irishman, indeed,
Who borrowed Cupid's darts to make me bleed.
My aunt said he was vulgar; he was poor,
And his boots creaked, and dirtied her smooth floor.
She hated him; and when he went away,
He wrote--I have the verses to this day:--
In Collins Street
© George Essex Evans
I stood in the heart of the city street,
I felt the throb of her pulses beat,
A Lover's Quarrel Among the Fairies
© William Butler Yeats
Male Fairies: Do not fear us, earthly maid!
We will lead you hand in hand
By the willows in the glade,
By the gorse on the high land,
Mons Angelorum
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
Joshua O father of my soul, I cannot tell.
The burden of the Lord is heavy on me,
And I am broken beneath it.
The Way Of The Bush
© Alice Guerin Crist
A night of storm and wind and rain,
Tall trees bowing beneath the blast
That shakes and rattles the window-pane,
And a thunderous roar as the creek goes past.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus ran the Student's pleasant rhyme
Of Eginhard and love and youth;
The Stranger's Friend
© Henry Lawson
It is true to the region of adjectives when I say that the spree was grim,
For to go on the spree was a sacred rite, or a heathen rite, to him,
To shout for the travellers passing through to the land where the lost soul bakes
Till they all seemed devils of different breeds, and his pockets were filled with snakes.
Once More
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
"Will I come?" That is pleasant! I beg to inquire
If the gun that I carry has ever missed fire?
And which was the muster-roll-mention but one--
That missed your old comrade who carries the gun?
In November (1)
© Archibald Lampman
The leafless forests slowly yield
To the thick-driving snow. A little while
And night shall darken down. In shouting file
The woodmen's carts go by me homeward-wheeled,
The Golden Year!
© Alfred Austin
When piped the love-warm throstle shrill,
And all the air was laden
Fragment Of A Meditation
© Allen Tate
In the beginning the irresponsible Verb
Connived with chaos whence I've seen it start
Riddles in the head for the nervous heart
To count its beat on: all beginnings run
Like water the easiest way or like birds
Fly on their cool imponderable flood.
New Years Eve
© Robinson Jeffers
Staggering homeward between the stream and the trees the unhappy
drunkard
Economy, A Rhapsody, Addressed to Young Poets
© William Shenstone
Insanis; omnes gelidis quaecunqne lacernis
Sunt tibi, Nasones Virgiliosque vides. ~Mart.
Imitation.
--Thou know'st not what thou say'st;
In garments that scarce fence them from the cold
Our Ovids and our Virgils you behold.
Ode XII: On Recovering From A Fit Of Sickness, In the Country
© Mark Akenside
I.
Thy verdant scenes, O Goulder's hill,
The Beggar And The Angel
© Duncan Campbell Scott
An angel burdened with self-pity
Came out of heaven to a modern city.
The Players Ask For A Blessing On The Psalteries And On Themselves
© William Butler Yeats
First Voice. Maybe they linger by the way.
One gathers up his purple gown;
One leans and mutters by the wall -
He dreads the weight of mortal hours.
A Wintry Picture
© Alfred Austin
Now where the bare sky spans the landscape bare,
Up long brown fallows creeps the slow brown team,
Sisters
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Sisters - Heaviness and Tenderness- you look the same.
Wasps and bees both suck the heavy rose.
Man dies, and the hot sand cools again.
Carried off on a black stretcher, yesterdays sun goes.
