Car poems
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Yeux Glauques
© Ezra Pound
Gladstone was still respected,
When John Ruskin produced
'King's Treasuries'; Swinburne
And Rossetti still abused.
The Sage
© Harriet Monroe
Sequoia, growing grandly
Out of the long ago,
Beloved of Time, whose sons
March by to measures slow,
How tenderly you cherish
All little lives below!
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book IX - Drona-Badha (Fall Of Drona)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
On the fall of Bhishma the Brahman chief Drona, preceptor of the Kuru
and Pandav princes, was appointed the leader of the Kuru forces. For
Ogyges
© Henry Kendall
Stand out, swift-footed leaders of the horns,
And draw strong breath, and fill the hollowy cliff
Elegy XVI: The Expostulation
© John Donne
TO make the doubt clear, that no woman's true,
Was it my fate to prove it strong in you?
The First Of April
© Charles Lamb
"Tell me what is the reason you hang down your head?
From your blushes I plainly discern
You have done something wrong. Ere you go up to bed,
I desire that the truth I may learn."
V: ¿Ves el sol
© Amado Ruiz de Nervo
¿Ves el sol, apagando su luz pura
en las ondas del piélago ambarino?
Así hundió sus fulgores mi ventura
para no renacer en mi camino.
The Cookie Jar
© Edgar Albert Guest
You can rig up a house with all manner of things,
The prayer rugs of sultans and princes and kings;
You can hang on its wall the old tapestries rare
Which some dead Egyptian once treasured with care;
But though costly and gorgeous its furnishings are,
It must have, to be homelike, an old cookie jar.
At Columbine's Grave
© Bliss William Carman
AH, Pierrot,
Where is thy Columbine?
What vandal could untwine
That gay rose-rope of thine,
And spill thy joy like wine,
Poor Pierrot?
I Don't Know If You're Alive Or Dead
© Anna Akhmatova
I don't know if you're alive or dead.
Can you on earth be sought,
Or only when the sunsets fade
Be mourned serenely in my thought?
The Murdered Traveller
© William Cullen Bryant
When spring, to woods and wastes around,
Brought bloom and joy again,
The murdered traveller's bones were found,
Far down a narrow glen.
Another Chance
© Henry Van Dyke
A DRAMATIC LYRIC
Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death!
The New-Born Infant
© Charles Lamb
Whether beneath sweet beds of roses,
As foolish little Ann supposes,
Bristowe Tragedie: Or The Dethe Of Syr Charles Badwin
© Thomas Chatterton
THE featherd songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
Rome Unvisited
© Oscar Wilde
I.
THE corn has turned from grey to red,
Since first my spirit wandered forth
From the drear cities of the north,
And to Italia's mountains fled.
Of English Verse
© Edmund Waller
Poets may boast, as safely vain,
Their works shall with the world remain;
Both, bound together, live or die,
The verses and the prophecy.
Simon Legree
© Vachel Lindsay
He wore hip-boots, and would wade all day
To capture his slaves that had fled away.
BUT HE WENT DOWN TO THE DEVIL.
