Car poems

 / page 562 of 738 /
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Confession

© Boris Pasternak

Life returned with a cause-the way
Some strange chance once interrupted it.
Just as on that distant summer day,
I am standing in the same old street.

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Austrian Alliance

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

Doth this hand live? Trust not a royal coat,

My country! Smite that cheek; there is no stain

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One Viceroy Resigns

© Rudyard Kipling

So here's your Empire. No more wine, then?
Good.
We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away.
(You'll know that fat old fellow with the knife --

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The Oldest Song

© Rudyard Kipling

"These were never your true love's eyes.
Why do you feign that you love them?
You that broke from their constancies,
And the wide calm brows above them!

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The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans - The First Book

© Robert Southey

  The plumeless bat with short shrill note flits by,
  And the night-raven's scream came fitfully,
  Borne on the hollow blast. Eager the Maid
  Look'd to the shore, and now upon the bank
  Leaps, joyful to escape, yet trembling still
  In recollection.

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The Old Issue

© Rudyard Kipling

Here is nothing new nor aught unproven," say the Trumpets,
"Many feet have worn it and the road is old indeed.
"It is the King--the King we schooled aforetime! "
(Trumpets in the marshes-in the eyot at Runnymede!)

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La Nuit Blanche

© Rudyard Kipling

A much-discerning Public hold
The Singer generally sings
And prints and sells his past for gold.

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To 1862

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

(In Prospect Of War With America)


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The Naulahka

© Rudyard Kipling

Beware the man who's crossed in love;
For pent-up steam must find its vent.
Stand back when he is on the move,
And lend him all the Continent.

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The Three Urgandas

© Madison Julius Cawein

Cast on sleep there came to me

  Three Urgandas; and the sea

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The Native-Born

© Rudyard Kipling

And the children nine and ten (Stand up!),
And the life we live and know,
Let a fellow sing o' the little things he cares about,
If a fellow fights for the little things he cares about
With the weight of a two-fold blow!

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My Rival

© Rudyard Kipling

I go to concert, party, ball --
What profit is in these?
I sit alone against the wall
And strive to look at ease.

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The Barefooted Friar

© Sir Walter Scott

I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain,
To search Europe through, from Byzantium to Spain;
But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire,
So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar.

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Mulholland's Contract

© Rudyard Kipling

The fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea,
An' the pens broke up on the lower deck an' let the creatures free --
An' the lights went out on the lower deck, an' no one near but me.

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Mesopotamia

© Rudyard Kipling

1917They shall not return to us, the resolute, the young,
The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave:
But the men who left them thriftily to die in their own dung,
Shall they come with years and honour to the grave?

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The Merchantmen

© Rudyard Kipling

Coastwise -- cross-seas -- round the world and back again --
Where the paw shall head us or the full Trade suits --
Plain-sail -- storm-sail -- lay your board and tack again --
And that's the way we'll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots!

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The Men That Fought at Minden

© Rudyard Kipling

The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time --
So was them that fought at Waterloo!
All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand,
They was once dam' sweeps like you!

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Eclogue 8: To Pollio Damon Alphesiboeus

© Publius Vergilius Maro

Scarce had night's chilly shade forsook the sky
What time to nibbling sheep the dewy grass
Tastes sweetest, when, on his smooth shepherd-staff
Of olive leaning, Damon thus began.

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Mary, Pity Women!

© Rudyard Kipling

Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over --
Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to you lover!
What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you
(Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you?

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The Mary Gloster

© Rudyard Kipling

I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim --
Dick, it's your daddy, dying; you've got to listen to him!
Good for a fortnight, am I? The doctor told you? He lied.
I shall go under by morning, and -- Put that nurse outside.