Car poems
/ page 56 of 738 /
Hounds In London
© William Henry Ogilvie
If they find you a fox in Mayfair, will you show them
a right pack running,
With scorn of a Hyde Park holloa or a hat held up
in the Strand ?
The November Pansy
© Duncan Campbell Scott
This is not June,--by Autumn's stratagem
Thou hast been ambushed in the chilly air;
The Sack Of Baltimore
© Thomas Osborne Davis
I.
The summer sun is falling soft on Carbery's hundred isles--
The Menu
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I beg you come to-night and dine.
A welcome waits you, and sound wine-
Apparuit
© Ezra Pound
Golden rose the house, in the portal I saw
thee, a marvel, carven in subtle stuff, a
portent. Life died down in the lamp and flickered,
caught at the wonder.
Wood-Words
© Madison Julius Cawein
The spirits of the forest,
That to the winds give voice--
I lie the livelong April day
And wonder what it is they say
That makes the leaves rejoice.
Leetle Lac Grenier
© William Henry Drummond
Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,
Right on de mountain top,
But cloud sweepin' by, will fin' tam to stop
No matter how quickly he want to go,
So he'll kiss leetle Grenier down below.
Aurora Leigh: Book Fourth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
She, at that,
Looked blindly in his face, as when one looks
Through driving autumn-rains to find the sky.
He went on speaking.
The Decision Of Fortune
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Fortune well-Pictur'd on a rolling Globe,
With waving Locks, and thin transparent Robe,
The Ghost at the Second Bridge
© Henry Lawson
You'd call the man a senseless fool,
A blockhead or an ass,
The Pierrot Of The Minute
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
_A glade in the Parc due Petit Trianon. In the centre a Doric temple with
steps coming down the stage. On the left a little Cupid on a pedestal.
Twilight._
After All Is Said And Done
© Edgar Albert Guest
AFTER all is said and done,
After all the work and fun,
To The Beloved
© Alice Meynell
Oh, not more subtly silence strays
Amongst the winds, between the voices,
Mingling alike with pensive lays,
And with the music that rejoices,
Than thou art present in my days.
Eclogue the Fourth Agib
© William Taylor Collins
In vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves,
For ever famed for pure and happy loves;
In vain she boasts her fairest of the fair,
Their eyes' blue languish and their golden hair!
Those eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send;
Those hairs the Tartar's cruel hand shall rend.
The Ballad of the Elder Son
© Henry Lawson
A son of elder sons I am,
Whose boyhood days were cramped and scant,
The Task: Book V. -- The Winter Morning Walk
© William Cowper
Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds,
Triolets
© Sara Teasdale
Before a lonely shrine
Of foam-born Aphrodite,
Ungarlanded of vine,
Undyed by dripping wine,
Morning
© John Keble
Hues of the rich unfolding morn,
That, ere the glorious sun be born,
By some soft touch invisible
Around his path are taught to swell; -
