Car poems
/ page 550 of 738 /The Garden Of The Sea.
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE infinite garden of the sea is His
To play in. Gravely smiling He resigns
To man his choice this rugged plot of earth,
Watches man tear it with his deep canals,
Don Diego Of The South
© Francis Bret Harte
Good!--said the Padre,--believe me still,
"Don Giovanni," or what you will,
The type's eternal! We knew him here
As Don Diego del Sud. I fear
The story's no new one! Will you hear?
Songs of the Voices of Birds: A Poet in his Youth, and the Cuckoo-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
“O, I hear thee in the blue;
Would that I might wing it too!
O to have what hope hath seen!
O to be what might have been!
Wall, Cave, And Pillar Statements, After Asoka
© Alan Dugan
In order to perfect all readers
the statements should he carved
When The Light Appears
© Allen Ginsberg
You'll bare your bones you'll grow you'll pray you'll only know
When the light appears, boy, when the light appears
Work and Play
© Ted Hughes
The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer,
A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage,
The Fear
© Robert Frost
A lantern light from deeper in the barn
Shone on a man and woman in the door
And threw their lurching shadows on a house
Near by, all dark in every glossy window.
Good-by and Keep Cold
© Robert Frost
This saying good-by on the edge of the dark
And the cold to an orchard so young in the bark
Reminds me of all that can happen to harm
An orchard away at the end of the farm
Two Look at Two
© Robert Frost
Love and forgetting might have carried them
A little further up the mountain side
With night so near, but not much further up.
They must have halted soon in any case
Written on a Wall at Woodstock
© Queen Elizabeth I
Oh Fortune, thy wresting wavering state
Hath fraught with cares my troubled wit,
Christmas Trees
© Robert Frost
(A Christmas Circular Letter)
THE CITY had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
The Struggle
© Hristo Botev
In sorrow youth passes, in sorrows and pains,
Angrily boils the blood in the veins;
Lowering brows - the mind cannot see,
Is it good or evil that is to be.
The Need of Being Versed in Country Things
© Robert Frost
The house had gone to bring again
To the midnight sky a sunset glow.
Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,
Like a pistil after the petals go.
The Death of the Hired Man
© Robert Frost
Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
To Count Carlo Pepoli
© Giacomo Leopardi
This wearisome and this distressing sleep
That we call life, O how dost thou support,
Never Again Would Bird's Song Be The Same
© Robert Frost
He would declare and could himself believe
That the birds there in all the garden round
From having heard the daylong voice of Eve
Had added to their own an oversound,
The White Peacock
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Go away!
Go away; I will not confess to you!
His black biretta clings like a hangman's cap; under his twitching fingers the beads shiver and click,
As he mumbles in his corner, the shadow deepens upon him;
I will not confess! . . .