Car poems
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The Untamed
© Ronald Stuart Thomas
My garden is the wild
Sea of the grass. Her garden
Shelters between walls.
The tide could break in;
I should be sorry for this.
Pricking Thorns
© Robert Laurence Binyon
My spirit to--day that sprang
To meet the laughing morn
Is clouded and forlorn
And chafes with hidden pang.
Promise
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I GREW a rose within a garden fair,
And, tending it with more than loving care,
The City (1925)
© Carl Rakosi
Under this Luxemburg of heaven,
upright capstan,
small eagles. . . .
is the port of N.Y. . . . .
Lines written under the conviction that it is not wise to read Mathematics in November after one’s fire is out
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,
When the leaf has left the lime,
A Christmas Carol. From The Noei Bourguignon De Gui Barozai
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I hear along our street
Pass the minstrel throngs;
Paradise Lost : Book X.
© John Milton
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
How many times these low feet staggered (238)
© Emily Dickinson
How many times these low feet staggered -
Only the soldered mouth can tell -
Try - can you stir the awful rivet -
Try - can you lift the hasps of steel!
The Troubadour. Canto 4
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But he was safe!--that very day
Farewell, it had been her's to say;
And he was gone to his own land,
To seek another maiden's hand.
The Sonnet
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Alone it stands in Poesy’s fair land,
A temple by the muses set apart;
Love Song: I and Thou
© Alan Dugan
Nothing is plumb, level, or square:
the studs are bowed, the joists
You and your whole race.
© Langston Hughes
You and your whole race.
Look down upon the town in which you live
A Poem Beginning with a Line by Pindar
© Robert Duncan
I
The light foot hears you and the brightness begins
god-step at the margins of thought,
quick adulterous tread at the heart.
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard
© Thomas Gray
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The plowman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
The Plate
© Anthony Evan Hecht
Now he has silver in him. When sometime
Death shall boil down unnecessary fat
Poem to Some of My Recent Poems
© James Tate
My beloved little billiard balls,
my polite mongrels, edible patriotic plums,
Elegy for the Native Guards
© Natasha Trethewey
Now that the salt of their blood
Stiffens the saltier oblivion of the sea . . .
—Allen Tate
