Car poems
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When Dawn Comes to the City
© Claude McKay
The tired cars go grumbling by,
The moaning, groaning cars,
And the old milk carts go rumbling by
Under the same dull stars.
Idem Latine Redditum
© William Cowper
Heu inimicitias quoties parit æmula forma,
Quam raro pulchrae, pulchra placere potest!
Sed fines ultrà solitos discordia tendit,
Cum flores ipsos bilis et ira movent.
Of The Mole In The Ground
© John Bunyan
The mole's a creature very smooth and slick,
She digs i' th' dirt, but 'twill not on her stick;
Subway Wind
© Claude McKay
Far down, down through the city's great, gaunt gut,
The gray train rushing bears the weary wind;
In the packed cars the fans the crowd's breath cut,
Leaving the sick and heavy air behind.
Song. "Pass thy hand through my hair, love"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Pass thy hand through my hair, love;
One little year ago,
Green Grow The Rashes
© Robert Burns
Chorus: Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O!
The House Of Socrates
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
FOR Socrates a House was built,
Of but inferiour Size;
Not highly Arch'd, nor Carv'd, nor Gilt;
The Man, 'tis said, was Wise.
The Dancer Of The Daughters Of Herodias
© Arthur Symons
Is it the petals falling from the rose?
For in the silence I can hear a sound
On the Road
© Claude McKay
Roar of the rushing train fearfully rocking,
Impatient people jammed in line for food,
The rasping noise of cars together knocking,
And worried waiters, some in ugly mood,
S I W
© Wilfred Owen
I will to the King,
And offer him consolation in his trouble,
For that man there has set his teeth to die,
And being one that hates obedience,
Discipline, and orderliness of life,
I cannot mourn him.
On Broadway
© Claude McKay
About me young careless feet
Linger along the garish street;
Above, a hundred shouting signs
Shed down their bright fantastic glow
Third Sunday In Advent
© John Keble
What went ye out to see
O'er the rude sandy lea,
Where stately Jordan flows by many a palm,
Or where Gennesaret's wave
Delights the flowers to lave,
That o'er her western slope breathe airs of balm.
North and South
© Claude McKay
O sweet are tropic lands for waking dreams!
There time and life move lazily along.
There by the banks of blue-and-silver streams
Grass-sheltered crickets chirp incessant song,
The Lost One
© Caroline Norton
COME to the grave--the silent grave! and dream
Of a light, happy voice--so full of joy,
That those who heard her laugh, would laugh again,
Echoing the mirth of such an innocent spirit;
Futility
© Claude McKay
Oh, I have tried to laugh the pain away,
Let new flames brush my love-springs like a feather.
But the old fever seizes me to-day,
As sickness grips a soul in wretched weather.
French Leave
© Claude McKay
No servile little fear shall daunt my will
This morning. I have courage steeled to say
I will be lazy, conqueringly still,
I will not lose the hours in toil this day.
A Poet
© Thomas Hardy
Attentive eyes, fantastic heed,
Assessing minds, he does not need,
Nor urgent writs to sup or dine,
Nor pledges in the roseate wine.
Italy : 40. Banditti
© Samuel Rogers
'Tis a wild life, fearful and full of change,
The mountain-robber's. On the watch he lies,
Levelling his carbine at the passenger;
And, when his work is done, he dares not sleep.
