Car poems
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Envy
© Charles Lamb
This rose-tree is not made to bear
The violet blue, nor lily fair,
Nor the sweet mignonette:
And if this tree were discontent,
Or wished to change its natural bent,
It all in vain would fret.
Jesus Calls Us
© Cecil Frances Alexander
Jesus calls us; o'er the tumult
of our life's wild, restless sea,
day by day his clear voice soundeth,
saying, "Christian, follow me;"
Verses I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN PREFIXED TO THE NOVEL
OF EMMELINE, BUT THEN SUPPRESSED.
O'ERWHELM'D with sorrow, and sustaining long
"The proud man's contumely, th' oppressor's wrong,"
Our Fear
© Zbigniew Herbert
Our fear
does not wear a night shirt
does not have owls eyes
does not lift a casket lid
does not extinguish a candle
Moses On The Nile
© Victor Marie Hugo
"Sisters! the wave is freshest in the ray
Of the young morning; the reapers are asleep;
The One Certain Thing by Peter Cooley : American Life in Poetry #268 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate
© Ted Kooser
If writers are both skilled and lucky, they may write something that will carry their words into the future, past the hour of their own deaths. I’d guess all writers hope for this, and the following poem by Peter Cooley, who lives in New Orleans and teaches creative writing at Tulane, beautifully expresses his hope, and theirs.
The One Certain Thing
A day will come I’ll watch you reading this.
Moore
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
He sings the heroic tales of old
When Ireland yet was free,
Of many a fight and foray bold,
And raid beyond the sea.
The Day Of Judgement
© John Newton
Day of judgement, day of wonders!
Hark! the trumpet's awful sound,
Louder than a thousand thunders,
Shakes the vast creation round!
How the summons will the sinner's heart confound.
When Life Is But A Round Of Crushing Care
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
When life is but a round of crushing care
And, a great heap of stones, lies heavy on us,
There suddenly, God knows how, why, upon us
A joyous mood descends… Of balmy air
A breath comes from the past and, o'er us drifting,
Invades the heart, its fearful burden lifting.
War And PeaceA Poem
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou, whose lov'd presence and benignant smile
Has beam'd effulgence on this favour'd isle;
Thou! the fair seraph, in immortal state,
Thron'd on the rainbow, heaven's emblazon'd gate;
Thou! whose mild whispers in the summer-breeze
Control the storm, and undulate the seas;
The Vision Of Cassandra
© Aeschylus
Well, what of Phoebus, maiden? though a name
'Tis but disparagement to call upon
In misery.
The Wrongs Of Africa: Part The Second
© William Roscoe
FAIR is this fertile spot, which God assign'd
As man's terrestrial home; where every charm
A Second Childhood
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
When all my days are ending
And I have no song to sing,
I think I shall not be too old
To stare at everything;
As I stared once at a nursery door
Or a tall tree and a swing.
The Bell-Founder Part I - Labour And Hope
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
In that land where the heaven-tinted pencil giveth shape to the
splendour of dreams,
Near Florence, the fairest of cities, and Arno, the sweetest of streams,
'Neath those hills whence the race of the Geraldine wandered in ages
The Haunted Room
© Madison Julius Cawein
Its casements' diamond disks of glass
Stare myriad on a terrace old,
Another Bit And An Offer
© Ezra Pound
I see by the morning papers
That America's sturdy sons
Have started a investigation
Of the making of guns.
Don Juan: Canto The Thirteenth
© George Gordon Byron
I now mean to be serious;--it is time,
Since laughter now-a-days is deem'd too serious.
The Miracle Of The Corn
© Padraic Colum
SCENE: The interior of FARDORROUGHA'S house. The door at back R.; the hearth L.; the window R. is only conventionally represented.
What is actually shown is a bin for corn (corn in the sense of any kind of grain, as the word is used in Ireland the breadstuff and the symbol of fertility), shelves with vessels, benches, and a shrine. The bin projects from back C.; the shelves
with vessels are each side of the bin; the shrine is R.; it holds a small statue of the Blessed Virgin, and a rosary of large beads hangs from it; the benches are R. and L. One is at the conventional fireplace, and the other is down from the conventional door.
All the persons concerned in the action are on the scene when it opens, and they remain on the scene. They only enter the action when they go up to where the bin is. Going back to the places they had on the benches takes them out of the action.
On the bench near the hearth sit the people of FARDORROUGHA'S household FARDORROUGHA, SHEILA, PAUDEEN, AISLINN. On the bench near the door sit the strangers three women, one of whom has a child with her, and SHAUN o' THE BOG. The people are dressed in greys and browns, and brown is the colour of the interior. The three women and SHAUN o' THE BOG are poorly dressed; the women are barefooted. PAUDEEN is dressed rudely, and sandals of hide are bound across his feet. FARDORROUGHA,
SHEILA, and AISLINN are comfortably dressed.
