Car poems

 / page 419 of 738 /
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet III

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Matron was she of a great Roman house,
And wed in youth to one she might not love;
Her birth, her fortune, her name luminous,
Such as all noblest virtues most behove.

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Songs from the Plays - Fear No More the Heat o’ the Sun

© William Shakespeare

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

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As

© Paul Muldoon

As naught gives way to aught

and oxhide gives way to chain mail

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The Boy and the Mantle

© Thomas Percy

In the third day of May,
To Carleile did come
A kind curteous child,
That cold much of wisdome.

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None

© Hayden Carruth

You died. And because you were Greek they gave you 

 a coin to carry under your tongue and then also 

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Time

© George MacDonald

A lang-backit, spilgie, fuistit auld carl

Gangs a' nicht rakin athort the warl

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Tam O 'Shanter

© Robert Burns

 This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses.)

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To my Dear Friend Mr. Congreve on his Comedy Call'd the Double Dealer

© John Dryden

Well then; the promis'd hour is come at last;


The present age of wit obscures the past:

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A Thrush in the Trenches

© Humbert Wolfe

Suddenly he sang across the trenches,
vivid in the fleeting hush
as a star-shell through the smashed black branches,
a more than English thrush.

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Madam’s Past History

© Langston Hughes

My name is Johnson—
Madam Alberta K.
The Madam stands for business. 
I’m smart that way.

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Ballad of John Cable and Three Gentlemen

© William Stanley Merwin

He that had come that morning, 
One after the other,
Over seven hills,
Each of a new color,

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Song: I prithee spare me gentle boy

© Sir John Suckling

I prithee spare me gentle boy,
Press me no more for that slight toy,
That foolish trifle of an heart;
I swear it will not do its part,
Though thou dost thine, employ’st thy pow’r and art.

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Sonnet 52: "So am I as the rich whose blessed key..."

© William Shakespeare

So am I as the rich whose blessed key,

 Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,

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To Joanna

© William Wordsworth

AMID the smoke of cities did you pass

The time of early youth; and there you learned,

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A Apostacy Of One, And But One Lady

© Richard Lovelace

  I.
That frantick errour I adore,
  And am confirm'd the earth turns round;
Now satisfied o're and o're,

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The Picture Book

© Robert Graves

When I was not quite five years old
  I first saw the blue picture book,
And Fraulein Spitzenburger told
Stories that sent me hot and cold;
  I loathed it, yet I had to look:
  It was a German book.

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More Sonnets At Christmas

© Allen Tate

Suppose I take an arrogant bomber, stroke 
By stroke, up to the frazzled sun to hear 
Sun-ghostlings whisper: Yes, the capital yoke—
Remove it and there’s not a ghost to fear 
This crucial day, whose decapitate joke 
Languidly winds into the inner ear.

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Sonnets

© Thomas Bailey Aldrich

ENAMOURED ARCHITECT OF AIRY RHYME

ENAMOURED architect of airy rhyme,

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Study in Orange and White

© Billy Collins

I knew that James Whistler was part of the Paris scene,
but I was still surprised when I found the painting
of his mother at the Musée d'Orsay
among all the colored dots and mobile brushstrokes
of the French Impressionists.

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Sappho

© James Wright

The twilight falls; I soften the dusting feathers, 
And clean again.
The house has lain and moldered for three days. 
The windows smeared with rain, the curtains torn, 
The mice come in,
The kitchen blown with cold.