Car poems
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From The Top Of The Stairs
© Zbigniew Herbert
Of course
those who are standing at the top of the stairs
know
they know everything
The Golden Legend: IV. The Road To Hirschau
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Onward and onward the highway runs
to the distant city, impatiently bearing
Tidings of human joy and disaster, of love and of
hate, of doing and daring!
Some Account Of A New Play
© Richard Harris Barham
Tavistock Hotel, Nov. 1839.
Dear Charles,
- In reply to your letter, and Fanny's,
Lord Brougham, it appears, isn't dead,- though Queen Anne is;
'Twas a 'plot' and a 'farce'- you hate farces, you say -
Take another 'plot,' then, viz. the plot of a Play.
Spleen (III)
© Charles Baudelaire
Je suis comme le roi d'un pays pluvieux,
Riche, mais impuissant, jeune et pourtant très vieux,
Qui, de ses précepteurs méprisant les courbettes,
S'ennuie avec ses chiens comme avec d'autres bêtes.
Apart
© Madison Julius Cawein
While sunset burns and stars are few,
And roses scent the fading light,
And like a slim urn, dripping dew,
A spirit carries through the night,
The pearl-pale moon hangs new,--
I think of you, of you.
Black Lizzie
© Henry Kendall
But let them pass! To right your wrong,
Aspasia of the ardent South,
Your poet means to sing a song
With some prolixity of mouth.
Song Of Loves Coming
© Arthur Symons
Love comes unawares
(In my arms sighing).
Ah me, the many cares
Between his birth and dying!
The Nativity Of The Blessed Virgin Mary
© Alessandro Manzoni
O'er the hills of the country, a went climbing one day,
In the stillness a Nazarene carpenter's bride,
A visit, unseen, to the cottage to pay
Of a happy old wife in first pregnancy's pride.
Don Juan: Canto The Fourth
© George Gordon Byron
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
Good-Bye My Fancy!
© Walt Whitman
blended into one;
Then if we die we die together, (yes,we'll remain one,)
If we go anywhere we'll be better off and blither, and learn something,
May-be it is yourself now really ushering me
How To Not Settle It
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I LIKE, at times, to hear the steeples' chimes
With sober thoughts impressively that mingle;
But sometimes, too, I rather like--don't you?--
To hear the music of the sleigh bells' jingle.
On the Russian Persecution of the Jews: Sonnets
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
O SON of man, by lying tongues adored,
By slaughterous hands of slaves with feet red-shod
Fragment: Supposed To Be An Epithalamium Of Francis Ravaillac And Charlotte Corday
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Tis midnight now--athwart the murky air,
Dank lurid meteors shoot a livid gleam;
From the dark storm-clouds flashes a fearful glare,
It shows the bending oak, the roaring stream.
My Ladys Slipper
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Only the bark of my dog in the tower,
Glad in his play;
"Red was her cloak, and her face like a flower";
Hide it away!
Arabella Stuart
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
And is not love in vain,
Torture enough without a living tomb?
Byron
Domingos De Provincia
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
En los claros domingos de mi pueblo es costumbre
Que en la plaza descubran las gentiles cabezas
Las mozas, y sus ojos reflejan dulcemente
Y la banda del kiosco toca lánguidas piezas.
Dedication: To W. R. B.
© Stephen Vincent Benet
And so, to you, who always were
Perseus, D'Artagnan, Lancelot
To me, I give these weedy rhymes
In memory of earlier times.
Now all those careless days are not.
Of all my heroes, you endure.
Chione
© Archibald Lampman
Scarcely a breath about the rocky stair
Moved, but the growing tide from verge to verge,
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 04
© Torquato Tasso
XXXI
Thus spake the nymph, yet spake but to the wind,
