Car poems
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H. C. M. H. S. J. K. W.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE dirge is played, the throbbing death-peal rung,
The sad-voiced requiem sung;
On each white urn where memory dwells
The wreath of rustling immortelles
Our loving hands have hung,
And balmiest leaves have strown and tenderest blossoms flung.
Lycabas
© George MacDonald
A name of the Year. Some say the word means a march of wolves,
which wolves, running in single file, are the Months of the Year.
Others say the word means the path of the light.
Ballade Of The Traffickers
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Take thou my verses, I pray, King,
Letting my guerdon be fair.
Even a bard must be making
All that the traffic will bear.
Litany
© William Taylor Collins
You are the bread and the knife,
The crystal goblet and the wine…
-Jacques Crickillon
Epistle Of Condolence From A Slave-Lord To A Cotton-Lord
© Thomas Moore
Alas ! my dear friend, what a state of affairs !
How unjustly we both are despoil'd of our rights !
Not a pound of black flesh shall I leave to my heirs,
Nor must you any more work to death little whites.
To My Son
© George Gordon Byron
Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue
Bright as thy mother's in their hue;
Those rosy lips, whose dimples play
And smile to steal the heart away,
Recall a scene of former joy,
And touch thy fathers heart, my Boy!
Monody On The Death Of The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan
© George Gordon Byron
When the last sunshine of expiring day
In summer's twilight weeps itself away,
'The Seabolt's Volunteers'
© Henry Lawson
They towed the Seabolt down the stream,
And through the harbours mouth;
She spread her wings and sailed away
To seek the sunny South.
Two Campers In Cloud Country
© Sylvia Plath
In this country there is neither measure nor balance
To redress the dominance of rocks and woods,
The passage, say, of these man-shaming clouds.
Little Mouse
© William Henry Drummond
An' it 's new cariole too, is come from St.
Felix
Jo-seph 's only buyin' it week before,
An' w'en he is passin' de road wit' hees trotter
Ev'ry body was stan' on de outside door.
Conscious Madness (extract from Saul)
© Charles Heavysege
What ails me? what impels me on, until
The big drops fall from off my brow? Whence comes
The Princess Elizabeth, when a prisoner at Woodstock, 1554
© William Shenstone
Will you hear how once repining
Great Eliza captive lay,
Each ambitious thought resigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and sway?
My name came from. . . by Emmett Tenorio Melendez: American Life in Poetry #180 Ted Kooser, U.S. Po
© Ted Kooser
What's in a name? All of us have thought at one time or another about our names, perhaps asking why they were given to us, or finding meanings within them. Here Emmett Tenorio Melendez, an eleven-year-old poet from San Antonio, Texas, proudly presents us with his name and its meaning.
My name came from. . .
Slow Dancing on the Highway:the Trip North by Elizabeth Hobbs: American Life in Poetry #112 Ted Koos
© Ted Kooser
Not only do we have road rage, but it seems we have road love, too. Here Elizabeth Hobbs of Maine offers us a two-car courtship. Be careful with whom you choose to try this little dance.
Slow Dancing on the Highway:
the Trip North
You follow close behind me,
for a thousand miles responsive to my movements.
I signal, you signal back. We will meet at the next exit.
Disappointment
© Ovid
But oh, I suppose she was ugly; she wasn't elegant;
I hadn't yearned for her often in my prayers.
Yet holding her I was limp, and nothing happened at all:
I just lay there, a disgraceful load for her bed.
A Triptych
© Arthur Symons
II. ISOTTA TO THE ROSE: RIMINI
The little country girl who plucks a rose
Goes barefoot through the sunlight to the sea,
And singing of Isotta as she goes.
