Car poems
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Childless
© Edgar Albert Guest
If certain folks that I know well
Should come to me their woes to tell
Not Worth the toil!
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
NOT all the sum of earthly happiness
Is worth the bowed head of a moment's pain,
And if I sell for wine my dervish dress,
Worth more than what I sell is what I gain!
How Much Fortunatus Could Do With A Cap
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
And The Moral is easily said:
Like our hero, you're certain to find,
When such a cap goes on a head,
Retribution will follow behind!
The Eighth Olympic Ode Of Pindar
© Henry James Pye
To Alcimedon, on his Olympic Victory; Timosthenes, on his Nemean Victory; and Melesias, their Preceptor. ARGUMENT. Though this is called an Olympic Ode, the Poet does not confine himself to Alcimedon, who won the Prize in those Games, but celebrates his Brother Timosthenes, for his success at Nemea, and Melesias, their Instructor. The Ode opens with an invocation to the place where the Games were held. Pindar then, after praising Timosthenes for his early victory in the Nemean Games, mentions Alcimedon, and extols him for his dexterity and strength, his beauty, and his country Ægina; which he celebrates for it's hospitality, and for it's being under the government of the Dorians after the death of Æacus; on whom he has a long digression, giving an account of his assisting the Gods in the building of Troy. Then returning to his subject, he mentions Melesias as skilled himself in the Athletic Exercises, and therefore proper to instruct others; and, enumerating his Triumphs, congratulates him on the success of his Pupil Alcimedon; which, he says, will not only give satisfaction to his living Relations, but will delight the Ghosts of those deceased. The Poet then concludes with a wish for the prosperity of him and his family.
STROPHE I.
What Makes Summer?
© George MacDonald
Winter froze both brook and well;
Fast and fast the snowflakes fell;
To Dr. Sherlock, On His Practical Discourse Concerning Death
© Matthew Prior
Forgive the muse who, in unhallow'd strains,
The saint one moment from his God detains;
Tale V
© George Crabbe
these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain;
Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers,
Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice
Nightmare
© Conrad Aiken
I sit before the gold-embroidered curtain
And think her face is like a wrinkled desert.
The crystal burns in lamplight beneath my eyes.
A dragon slowly coils on the scaly curtain.
Upon a scarlet cloth a white skull lies.
In A 'Bus.
© James Brunton Stephens
A QUARTER of a century agone,
Just such a face as this upon me shone,
Otherside
© Henry Lawson
SOMEWHERE in the mystic future, on the road to Paradise,
Theres a very pleasant country that Ive dreamed of once or twice,
It has inland towns, and cities by the oceans rocky shelves,
But the people of the country differ somewhat from ourselves;
It is many leagues beyond us, and they call it Otherside.
And there is among its people more Humanity than Pride.
The Shepherd's Wife's Song
© Robert Greene
His flocks are folded; he comes home at night
As merry as a king in his delight,
And merrier, too:
For kings bethink them what the state require,
Where shepherds, careless, carol by the fire:
Queries
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Well, how has it been with you since we met
That last strange time of a hundred times?
When we met to swear that we could forget
I your caresses, and you my rhymes
The Hand In The Dark
© Ada Cambridge
How calm the spangled city spread below!
How cool the night! How fair the starry skies!
How sweet the dewy breezes! But I know
What, under all their seeming beauty, lies.
Ode to Rae Wilson Esq.
© Thomas Hood
Mere verbiage,it is not worth a carrot!
Why, Socratesor Platowhere's the odds?
Once taught a jay to supplicate the Gods,
And made a Polly-theist of a Parrot!
The Princess (part 6)
© Alfred Tennyson
My dream had never died or lived again.
As in some mystic middle state I lay;
Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard:
Though, if I saw not, yet they told me all
So often that I speak as having seen.
Childish Recollections
© George Gordon Byron
'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'
WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins
