Car poems
/ page 646 of 738 /
Mrs Frances Haris's Petition
© Jonathan Swift
To their Excellencies the Lords Justices of Ireland,
The humble petition of Frances Harris,
Who must starve and die a maid if it miscarries;
Humble sheweth, that I went to warm myself in Lady Betty's chamber, because I
Advice to the Grub Street Verse-writers
© Jonathan Swift
Lend these to paper-sparing Pope;
And when he sets to write,
No letter with an envelope
Could give him more delight.
The Beasts' Confession
© Jonathan Swift
Apply the tale, and you shall find,
How just it suits with human kind.
Some faults we own: but, can you guess?
Why?--virtues carried to excess,
Wherewith our vanity endows us,
Though neither foe nor friend allows us.
Verses on the Death of Doctor Swift
© Jonathan Swift
As Rochefoucauld his maxims drew
From nature, I believe 'em true:
They argue no corrupted mind
In him; the fault is in mankind.
A Description of a City Shower
© Jonathan Swift
Careful Observers may fortel the Hour
(By sure Prognosticks) when to dread a Show'r:
While Rain depends, the pensive Cat gives o'er
Her Frolicks, and pursues her Tail no more.
A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed
© Jonathan Swift
Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane,
For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain;
Never did Covent Garden boast
So bright a batter'd, strolling Toast;
The Lady's Dressing Room
© Jonathan Swift
Five hours, (and who can do it less in?)
By haughty Celia spent in dressing;
The goddess from her chamber issues,
Arrayed in lace, brocades, and tissues.
To The Nightingale
© William Henry Drummond
Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours
Of winters past or coming, void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present are,
(Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers)
Summons To Love
© William Henry Drummond
Phoebus, arise!
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red:
Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
Intramuros
© Roddy Lumsden
She lies in her well-kept apartment
above the spick and span cathedral
in the heart of the walled city
above Manila Bay and she dreams
Spenser's Ireland
© Marianne Clarke Moore
has not altered;--
a place as kind as it is green,
the greenest place I've never seen.
Every name is a tune.
Nevertheless
© Marianne Clarke Moore
you've seen a strawberry
that's had a struggle; yet
was, where the fragments met,
Baseball and Writing
© Marianne Clarke Moore
Fanaticism?No.Writing is exciting
and baseball is like writing.
You can never tell with either
how it will go
Marriage
© Marianne Clarke Moore
This institution,
perhaps one should say enterprise
out of respect for which
one says one need not change one's mind
The Onondaga Madonna
© Duncan Campbell Scott
She stands full-throated and with careless pose,This woman of a weird and waning race,The tragic savage lurking in her face,Where all her pagan passion burns and glows;Her blood is mingled with her ancient foes,And thrills with war and wildness in her veins;Her rebel lips are dabbled with the stainsOf feuds and forays and her father's woes
Stanzas To The Po
© George Gordon Byron
River, that rollest by the ancient walls,
Where dwells the lady of my love, when she
Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
A faint and fleeting memory of me;
The Message
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Wind of the gentle summer night,
Dwell in the lilac tree,
Sway the blossoms clustered light,
Then blow over to me.
The Half-breed Girl
© Duncan Campbell Scott
She is free of the trap and the paddle,
The portage and the trail,
But something behind her savage life
Shines like a fragile veil.
Permanence
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Set within a desert lone,
Circled by an arid sea,
Stands a figure carved in stone,
Where a fountain used to be.
