Car poems
/ page 484 of 738 /Ballade Of Barren Roses
© Gertrude Bartlett
O Mystic Rose, the heart of Jesu, fair
Creative source from which all beauty flows,
Ever transfusing Love, hear now my prayer:
Resume for Love's own sake one barren rose.
The Viceroy. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
Of Nero, tyrant, petty king,
Who heretofore did reign
In famed Hibernia, I will sing,
And in a ditty plain.
Vertumnus and Pomona : Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 14 [v. 623-771]
© Alexander Pope
The fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
Of all the Virgins of the sylvan train,
Consummatum Est
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'VE done with all the world can give,
Whate'er its kind or measure.
(O Christ! what paltry lives we live
If toil be lord, or pleasure!).
Outer Space
© William Matthews
If you could turn the moon
on a lathe, you would
because you are curious.
The Angel In The House. Book II. The Prologue.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
The pulse of War, whose bloody heats
Sane purposes insanely work,
Now with fraternal frenzy beats,
And binds the Christian to the Turk,
And shrieking fifes
On The Edge Of The Wilderness
© William Morris
Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou?
Abide! abide! longer the shadows grow;
What hopest thou the dark to thee will show?
16. Of Gluttony and Feasting
© Sebastian Brant
He shows a fool in every wise
Who day and night forever hies
From feast to feat to fill his paunch
To A Little Girl
© Edgar Albert Guest
Oh, little girl with eyes of brown
And smiles that fairly light the town,
Quatrains
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
BLACK Tragedy lets slip her grim disguise
And shows you laughing lips and roguish eyes;
But when, unmasked, gay Comedy appears,
How wan her cheeks are, and what heavy tears!
The Boat On The Serchio
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream,
Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream,
The helm sways idly, hither and thither;
Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast,
And the oars, and the sails; but tis sleeping fast,
Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.
Venetian Epigrams
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn'd.
-----
CLASP'D in my arms for ever eagerly hold I my mistress,
The Looking-Glass. : on Mrs. Pulteney
© Alexander Pope
With scornful mien, and various toss of air,
Fantastic vain, and insolently fair,
The Triumph of Dead : Chap. 1
© Mary Sidney Herbert
That gallant lady, gloriously bright,
The stately pillar once of worthiness,
Beauty. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
'Tis in the mind that Beauty stands confess'd,
In all the noblest pride of glory dress'd,
Where virtue's rules the conscious bosom arm,
There to our eyes she spreads her brightest charm:
There all her rays, with force collected, shine,
Proclaim her worth, and speak her race divine.
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 03
© Conrad Aiken
The warm sun dreams in the dust, the warm sun falls
On bright red roofs and walls;
Old Aunt Mary's
© James Whitcomb Riley
Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth-- when the Saturday's chores were through,
And the "Sunday's wood" in the kitchen too,
And we went visiting, "me and you,"
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?
The Towers of Time
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
(There is never a crack in the ivory tower
Or a hinge to groan in the house of gold
Or a leaf of the rose in the wind to wither
And she grows young as the world grows old.
A Woman clothed with the sun returning
to clothe the sun when the sun is cold.)