Car poems

 / page 533 of 738 /
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To The Nightingale

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Exert thy Voice, sweet Harbinger of Spring!
This Moment is thy Time to sing,
This Moment I attend to Praise,
And set my Numbers to thy Layes.
Free as thine shall be my Song;
As thy Musick, short, or long.

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To Mr. F. Now Earl of W

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

No sooner, FLAVIO, was you gone,
But, your Injunction thought upon,
ARDELIA took the Pen;
Designing to perform the Task,
Her FLAVIO did so kindly ask,
Ere he returned agen.

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What One Says To The Poet On The Subject Of Flowers

© Arthur Rimbaud


Thus, ever, towards the azure night
Where there quivers a topaz sea,
Will function in your evening light
The Lilies, those clysters of ecstasy!

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The Tree

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Fair tree! for thy delightful shade
'Tis just that some return be made;
Sure some return is due from me
To thy cool shadows, and to thee.

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The Tradesman and the Scholar

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Wit and the Arts, on that Foundation rais'd,
(Howe'er the Vulgar are with Shows amaz'd)
Is all that recommends, or can be justly prais'd.

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The Spleen

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

What art thou, SPLEEN, which ev'ry thing dost ape?
Thou Proteus to abus'd Mankind,
Who never yet thy real Cause cou'd find,
Or fix thee to remain in one continued Shape.

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The Poor Man's Lamb

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Where art thou Nathan? where's that Spirit now,
Giv'n to brave Vice, tho' on a Prince's Brow?
In what low Cave, or on what Desert Coast,
Now Virtue wants it, is thy Presence lost?

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The Philosopher, the Young Man, and his Statue

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

A Fond Athenian Mother brought
A Sculptor to indulge her Thought,
And carve her Only Son;
Who to such strange perfection wrought,
That every Eye the Statue caught
Nor ought was left undone.

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The Petition for an Absolute Retreat

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Give me, O indulgent Fate!
Give me yet before I die
A sweet, but absolute retreat,
'Mongst paths so lost and trees so high

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The Search After Happiness. A Pastoral Drama

© Hannah More

"To rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the female breast." ~Thomson.

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The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 1 - 250 (Whinfield Translation)

© Omar Khayyám

At dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,
"Arise, my brethren of the revelers' guild,
That I may fill our measure full of wine,
Or e'er the measure of our days be filled."

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Berrying

© Madison Julius Cawein

I.

  My love went berrying

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The King and the Shepherd

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

As cou'd be prov'd, but that our plainer Task
Do's no such Toil, or Definitions ask;
But to be so rehears'd, as first 'twas told,
When such old Stories pleas'd in Days of old.

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The Hog, The Sheep, And Goat, Carrying To A FAIR

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Who does not wish, ever to judge aright,
And, in the Course of Life's Affairs,
To have a quick, and far extended Sight,
Tho' it too often multiplies his Cares?
And who has greater Sense, but greater Sorrow shares?

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The Equipage

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

Since the Road of Life's so ill;
I, to pass it, use this Skill,
My frail Carriage driving home
To its latest Stage, the Tomb.

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The Critick and the Writer of Fables

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

But here, the Critick bids me check this Vein.
Fable, he crys, tho' grown th' affected Strain,
But dies, as it was born, without Regard or Pain.
Whilst of his Aim the lazy Trifler fails,
Who seeks to purchase Fame by childish Tales.

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The Old Oak Tree

© Annie McCarer Darlington

Woodman, spare that tree!
Touch not a single bough:
In youth it sheltered me,
And I'd protect it now.

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At Peace

© Amado Ruiz de Nervo

Very near my setting sun, I bless you, Life
because you never gave me neither unfilled hope
nor unfair work, nor undeserved sorrow/pain

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All Is Vanity

© Anne Kingsmill Finch

I

How vain is Life! which rightly we compare

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On The Hurricane

© Anne Kingsmill Finch


The present Owner lifts his Eyes,
And the swift Change with sad Affrightment spies:
The Cieling gone, that late the Roof conceal'd;
The Roof untyl'd, thro' which the Heav'ns reveal'd,
Exposes now his Head, when all Defence has fail'd.