Car poems
/ page 390 of 738 /Lines Addressed To A.C.,
© Helen Maria Williams
Nor past, nor future cloud thy brow,
Thy range of thought confin'd to now;
Calm on a mother's breast you lie,
And heed not if, with tearful eye,
For thee her wishes fondly stray
O'er many a New-Year's Day.
The "William P. Frye"
© Jeanne Robert Foster
I saw her first abreast the Boston Light
At anchor; she had just come in, turned head,
And sent her hawsers creaking, clattering down.
I was so near to where the hawse-pipes fed
There Was One
© Dorothy Parker
There was one a-riding grand
On a tall brown mare,
And a fine gold band
He brought me there.
The Candidate
© Charles Churchill
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
First turn to me. . . .
© Bernadette Mayer
First turn to me after a shower,
you come inside me sideways as always
Above The Gaspereau
© Bliss William Carman
How still through the sweet summer sun, through the soft summer rain,
They have stood there awaiting the summons should bid them attain
The freedom of knowledge, the last touch of truth to explain
The great golden gist of their brooding, the marvellous train
Of thought they have followed so far, been so strong to sustain,
The white gospel of sun and the long revelations of rain!
In Chandler Country
© Dana Gioia
Relentlessly the wind blows on. Next door
catching a scent, the dogs begin to howl.
Lean, furious, raw-eyed from the storm,
packs of coyotes come down from the hills
where there is nothing left to hunt.
Where the Blue Begins
© Sonia Sanchez
In the southern Adriatic, where the blue begins,
We came to rest awhile and play
My Garden
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
If I could put my woods in song
And tell what's there enjoyed,
All men would to my gardens throng,
And leave the cities void.
On An Icicle That Clung To The Grass Of A Grave
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes,
Waft repose to some bosom as faithful as fair,
In which the warm current of love never freezes,
Drury-lane Prologue Spoken by Mr. Garrick at the Opening of the Theatre in Drury-Lane, 1747
© Henry James Pye
When Learning’s triumph o’er her barb’rous foes
First rear’d the stage, immortal Shakespear rose;
The God Of The Poor
© William Morris
There was a lord that hight Maltete,
Among great lords he was right great,
On poor folk trod he like the dirt,
None but God might do him hurt.
Deus est Deus pauperum.
Saints’ Logic
© Michael Rosen
Love the drill, confound the dentist.
Love the fever that carries me home.
Meat of exile. Salt of grief.
This much, indifferent
The Made to Order Smile
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
When a woman looks up at you with a twist about her eyes,
And her brows are half uplifted in a nicely feigned surprise
As you breathe some pretty sentence, though she hates you all the while,
She is very apt to stun you with a made to order smile.
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto III
© Richard Savage
Ye traytors, tyrants, fear his stinging lay!
Ye pow'rs unlov'd, unpity'd in decay!
But know, to you sweet-blossom'd Fame he brings,
Ye heroes, patriots, and paternal kings!
On Mother’s Day
© Grace Paley
Look! more trees on the block
forget-me-nots all around them
ivy lantana shining
and geraniums in the window
The Common Touch
© Edgar Albert Guest
I would not be too wiseso very wise
That I must sneer at simple songs and creeds,
Idyll I. The Death of Daphnis
© Theocritus
GOATHERD.
Shepherd, thy lay is as the noise of streams
Falling and falling aye from yon tall crag.
If for their meed the Muses claim the ewe,
Be thine the stall-fed lamb; or if they choose
The lamb, take thou the scarce less-valued ewe.
Out Of The Depths: Written After The Reformation Of A Brilliant And Talented Man
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Out of the midnight, rayless and cheerless,
Into the morning's golden light;