Car poems
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The Robe of Christ
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Cecil Chesterton)At the foot of the Cross on Calvary
Three soldiers sat and diced,
And one of them was the Devil
And he won the Robe of Christ.
Nimium Fortunatus (The Good Life)
© Robert Seymour Bridges
I have lain in the sun
I have toil'd as I might,
I have thought as I would,
And now it is night.
The Green Linnet
© William Wordsworth
BENEATH these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
To A Distant Friend
© William Wordsworth
Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what was once so fair?
Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?
The New School
© Joyce Kilmer
(For My Mother)The halls that were loud with the merry tread of
young and careless feet
Are still with a stillness that is too drear to seem like holiday,
And never a gust of laughter breaks the calm of the dreaming street
Roofs
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Amelia Josephine Burr)The road is wide and the stars are out
and the breath of the night is sweet,
And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet.
But I'm glad to turn from the open road and the starlight on my
Apology
© Joyce Kilmer
(For Eleanor Rogers Cox)For blows on the fort of evil
That never shows a breach,
For terrible life-long races
To a goal no foot can reach,
Main Street
© Joyce Kilmer
(For S. M. L.)I like to look at the blossomy track of the moon upon the sea,
But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used to be
When it all was covered over with a couple of feet of snow,
And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing sleighs would go.
Hymn Of Trust
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
O Love Divine, that stooped to share
Our sharpest pang, our bitterest tear,
On Thee we cast each earth-born care,
We smile at pain while Thou art near!
Down In A Shaded Garden
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Down in a shaded garden
I laid upon earth my head:
The deep trees murmured, darkly fresh,
Over my bed;
Ode to Autumn
© Thomas Hood
I saw old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like Silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
What Kind Of A Person
© Yehuda Amichai
I'm not flat and sly
Like a spatula creeping up from below.
At most I am a heavy and clumsy pestle
Mashing good and bad together
For a little taste
And a little fragrance.
William Forster
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The years are many since his hand
Was laid upon my head,
Too weak and young to understand
The serious words he said.
A Precise Woman
© Yehuda Amichai
A precise woman: on the bedroom carpet
her shoes always point away from the bed.
(My own shoes point toward it.)
Infirmity
© Theodore Roethke
In purest song one plays the constant fool
As changes shimmer in the inner eye.
I stare and stare into a deepening pool
And tell myself my image cannot die.
I love myself: thats my one constancy.
Oh, to be something else, yet still to be!
God Has Pity On Kindergarten Children
© Yehuda Amichai
God has pity on kindergarten children,
He pities school children -- less.
But adults he pities not at all.
