Car poems
/ page 396 of 738 /Delia LIII
© Samuel Daniel
Unhappy pen and ill accepted papers,
That intimate in vain my chaste desires,
A Madona Poesia (To My Lady of Poetry)
© Alfonsina Storni
AQUI a tus pies lanzada, pecadora,
contra tu tierra azul, mi cara oscura,
tú, virgen entre ejércitos de palmas
que no encanecen como los humanos.
Getting On
© William Henry Drummond
I know Im not too young, an' ma back is not as straight
As it use to be some feefty year ago--
Thyrsis: A Monody, to Commemorate the Author's Friend, Arthur Hugh Clough
© Matthew Arnold
How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!
In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps the same;
From Laughter To Labor
© Edgar Albert Guest
We have wandered afar in our hunting for pleasure,
We have scorned the soul's duty to gather up treasure;
We have lived for our laughter and toiled for our winning
And paid little heed to the soul's simple sinning.
But light were the burdens that freighted us then,
God and country, to-day let us prove we are men!
Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament
© Alfred Tennyson
To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Landlord's Tale; The Rhyme of Sir Christopher
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was Sir Christopher Gardiner,
Knight of the Holy Sepulchre,
From Merry England over the sea,
Who stepped upon this continent
As if his august presence lent
A glory to the colony.
Who Am I, Without Exile?
© Mahmoud Darwish
A stranger on the riverbank, like the river ... water
binds me to your name. Nothing brings me back from my faraway
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. Interlude IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
When the long murmur of applause
That greeted the Musician's lay
Arms and the Boy
© Wilfred Owen
Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d
© Walt Whitman
1
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
Like a Sentence
© John Ashbery
It was prettily said that “No man
hath an abundance of cows on the plain, nor shards
in his cupboard.” Wait! I think I know who said that! It was . . .
Persimmons
© Li-Young Lee
In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose
The Lady Of La Garaye - Prologue
© Caroline Norton
This was the Chapel: that the stair:
Here, where all lies damp and bare,
The fragrant thurible was swung,
The silver lamp in beauty hung,
And in that mass of ivied shade
The pale nuns sang--the abbot prayed.
His Farewell to Sack
© Robert Herrick
Farewell thou thing, time past so known, so dear
To me as blood to life and spirit; near,
Fox Sleep
© William Stanley Merwin
On a road through the mountains with a friend many years ago
I came to a curve on a slope where a clear stream
After Looking into Carlyles Reminiscences
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
I.
THREE MEN lived yet when this dead man was young