Car poems
/ page 443 of 738 /October on the Sheep Range
© Arthur Chapman
There ain't no leaves to turn to gold-
There ain't a tree in sight-
In other ways the herder's told
October's come, all right.
The Family Fool
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Oh! a private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,
If you listen to popular rumour;
Flight
© Boris Pasternak
Yesterday my wife held me here
as I thrashed and moaned, her hand
in my foaming mouth, and my son
saw what he was warned he might.
September, 1918
© Amy Lowell
This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;
The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;
Thanatopsis
© William Cullen Bryant
To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
Of Coarse Fools
© Sebastian Brant
Vile, scolding words do irritate,
Good manners thereby will abate
If sow-bell's rung from morn to late.
from In Lovely Blue
© Friedrich Hölderlin
Like the stamen inside a flower
The steeple stands in lovely blue
And the day unfolds around its needle;
Morituri Salutamus: Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Class of 1825 in Bowdoin College
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.
Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi.
"O Cæsar, we who are about to die
Salute you!" was the gladiators' cry
In the arena, standing face to face
With death and with the Roman populace.
I Shall not Care
© Sara Teasdale
When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Tho' you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.
To a Young Poet
© Mahmoud Darwish
Don’t believe our outlines, forget them
and begin from your own words.
As if you are the first to write poetry
or the last poet.
Verses Addressed To A Lady
© Henry James Pye
Of toil you say a moderate share
In each pursuit should rise,
Jacques Cartiers First Visit To Mount Royal
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
He stood on the wood-crowned summit
Of our mountains regal height,
Orpheus with his Lute Made Trees
© William Shakespeare
Orpheus with his Lute made Trees,
And the Mountaine tops that freeze,
A Vision of a Wrangler, of a University, of Pedantry, and of Philosophy
© James Clerk Maxwell
Deep St. Mary’s bell had sounded,
And the twelve notes gently rounded
The Grand Canyon
© Henry Van Dyke
How still it is! Dear God, I hardly dare
To breathe, for fear the fathomless abyss
Will draw me down into eternal sleep.
In Misty Blue
© Robert Laurence Binyon
In misty blue the lark is heard
Above the silent homes of men;
Statement with Rhymes
© Weldon Kees
Plurality is all. I sympathize, but cannot grieve
too long for those who wear their dialectics on their sleeves.
The pattern’s one I sometimes rather like; there’s really nothing wrong
with it for some. But I should add: It doesn’t wear for long,
before I push the elevator bell and quickly leave.