Car poems

 / page 590 of 738 /
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Christmas treasures

© Eugene Field

I count my treasures o'er with care.--
The little toy my darling knew,
A little sock of faded hue,
A little lock of golden hair.

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From: Tecumseh

© Charles Mair

There was a time on this fair continent
When all things throve in spacious peacefulness.
The prosperous forests unmolested stood,
For where the stalwart oak grew there it lived
Long ages, and then died among its kind.

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Child and mother

© Eugene Field

O mother-my-love, if you'll give me your hand,
And go where I ask you to wander,
I will lead you away to a beautiful land,--
The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder.

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Taken All Together

© Gamaliel Bradford

I've had a few diseases,
And trifled with despair,
Tried failure which displeases,
And coquetted with care.

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The Boy Patriot

© James Whitcomb Riley

  _I want to be a Soldier!_--
  _A Soldier!_--
  _A Soldier!_--
  _I want to be a Soldier, with a sabre in my hand_
  _Or a little carbine rifle, or a musket on my shoulder_,
  _Or just a snare-drum, snarling in the middle of the band_.

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Apple-Pie and Cheese

© Eugene Field

Full many a sinful notion
Conceived of foreign powers
Has come across the ocean
To harm this land of ours;

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On A Ferry Boat

© Richard Francis Burton

THE RIVER widens to a pathless sea  

 Beneath the rain and mist and sullen skies.  

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A Valentine

© Eugene Field

Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
I love her well.
Yes, though she tramples on my heart
And rends that bleeding thing apart;

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Paradise Lost : Book XI.

© John Milton


Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood

Praying; for from the mercy-seat above

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A proper trewe idyll of camelot

© Eugene Field

Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye
Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a merrie May,
Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben full of birds that syng
Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye waking spring,
Ye whiles that when ye face of earth ben washed and wiped ycleane
Her peeping posies blink and stare like they had ben her een;

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Bituminous?

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

The hard coal's called bituminous,
Or is that anthracite?
Stalactites grow down from caves,
Or do I mean stalagmites?

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A piteous plaint

© Eugene Field

I cannot eat my porridge,
I weary of my play;
No longer can I sleep at night,
No longer romp by day!

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Night

© Ruth Padel

Does a zebra foal dream? Head lower, lower
under lenticular dark cloud,
he drags harlequin fetlocks, porcelain
quails' egg hooflets through pimpling dust,

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Writing To Onegin

© Ruth Padel

(After Pushkin)
Look at the bare wood hand-waxed floor and long
White dressing-gown, the good child's writing-desk
And passionate cold feet

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How The Peaceful Aladdin Gave Way To His Madness

© Guy Wetmore Carryl

  The Moral: When stamps you're adept on
  Of risks you are reckless, and yet
  Beware! If your face is once stepped on,
  That's the last stamp you're likely to get!

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Icicles Round A Tree In Dumfriesshire

© Ruth Padel

We're talking different kinds of vulnerability here.

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To The Small Celandine

© William Wordsworth

PANSIES, lilies, kingcups, daisies,
Let them live upon their praises;
Long as there's a sun that sets,
Primroses will have their glory;

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Rip Van Winkle. Canto II.

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

So Rip began to look at people’s tongues
And thump their briskets (called it “sound their lungs"),
Brushed up his knowledge smartly as he could,
Read in old Cullen and in Doctor Good.
The town was healthy; for a month or two
He gave the sexton little work to do.

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The Coming Of Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.