Car poems
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Dawn in New York
© Claude McKay
The Dawn! The Dawn! The crimson-tinted, comes
Out of the low still skies, over the hills,
Manhattan's roofs and spires and cheerless domes!
The Dawn! My spirit to its spirit thrills.
Alfonso, Dressing to Wait at Table
© Claude McKay
Alfonso is a handsome bronze-hued lad
Of subtly-changing and surprising parts;
His moods are storms that frighten and make glad,
His eyes were made to capture women's hearts.
The Duellist - Book III
© Charles Churchill
Ah me! what mighty perils wait
The man who meddles with a state,
A Festal Ode Complimenting An Officer
© Confucius
On dashed my four steeds, without halt, without stay,
Though toilsome and winding from Chow was the way.
I wished to return--but the monarch's command
Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;
And my heart was with sadness oppressed.
Dead Horse In Field
© Robert Penn Warren
At evening I watch the buzzards, the crows,
Arise. They swing black in natures flow and perfection,
High in sad carmine of sunset. Forgiveness
Is not indicated. It is superfluous. They are
What they are.
The Dance To Death. Act I
© Emma Lazarus
This play is dedicated, in profound veneration and respect, to the
memory of George Eliot, the illustrious writer, who did most among
the artists of our day towards elevating and ennobling the spirit
of Jewish nationality.
Ode To Cheerfulness
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Guide me to thy fav'rite bow'rs,
To deck thy rural shrine with flow'rs.
In thy lowly, sylvan cell,
Peace and virtue love to dwell;
Ever let me own thy sway,
Still to thee my tribute pay.
The Bachelor's Soliloquy
© Edgar Albert Guest
To wed, or not to wed; that is the question;Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe bills and house rent of a wedded fortune,Or to say "nit" when she proposes,And by declining cut her
Hard Luck
© Edgar Albert Guest
Ain't no use as I can see
In sittin' underneath a tree
An' growlin' that your luck is bad,
An' that your life is extry sad;
The Pleiades At Midnight
© Johannes Carsten Hauch
We are the nightly weavers
who gather the invisible threads
from the Milky Way's outmost ring
where the end of the loom stands.
The Improvisatore
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore ; here he comes. Kate has a favour
to ask of you, Sir ; it is that you will repeat the ballad [Believe me if
all those endearing young charms.--EHC's ? note] that Mr. ____ sang so
sweetly.
Back To The Machine Gun
© Charles Bukowski
the young housewife next door shakes a rug
out of her window and sees me:
"hello, Hank!"
Italy : 43. The Bag Of Gold
© Samuel Rogers
I dine very often with the good old Cardinal * * and, I
should add, with his cats; for they always sit at his table,
and are much the gravest of the company. His beaming
countenance makes us forget his age; nor did I ever see
Sonnet
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
To the River OtterDear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West!
How many various-fated years have past,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
To The Rev. George Coleridge
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Notus in fratres animi paterni.
Hor. Carm. lib.II.2.A bless?d lot hath he, who having passed
His youth and early manhood in the stir
And turmoil of the world, retreats at length,
Beauty. Part II
© Henry James Pye
Of all that Nature's rural prospects yield,
The chrystal fountain and the flow'ry field,
Part of the Dialogue Between Hector and Andromache
© Samuel Johnson
She ceas'd; then godlike Hector answer'd kind -
(His various plumage sporting in the wind)
To The River Otter
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!
How many various-fated years have passed,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Ballad
© Eustache Deschamps
Here is no flower, no violet e'er so sweet,
Nor tree, nor brier, whatever charms they show, Beauty nor worth where all perfections meet,
No man, nor woman, though her fate bestow
Bright locks, fair skin, cheeks that like roses glow,
Or wise or foolish nought by nature made,
Which length of time shall age not, and degrade, But the fierce hunter death shall hold in chase, And which, when old, the world will not upbraid: Old age ends all, in youth alone is grace.
