Car poems
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The Poetry Of Spenser
© George Meredith
Lakes where the sunsheen is mystic with splendour and softness;
Vales where sweet life is all Summer with golden romance:
Forests that glimmer with twilight round revel-bright palaces;
Here in our May-blood we wander, careering 'mongst ladies and
knights.
To The Right Hon. Mr. Dodington
© Edward Young
Balbutius, muffled in his sable cloak,
Like an old Druid from his hollow oak,
As ravens solemn, and as boding, cries,
"Ten thousand worlds for the three unities!"
Ye doctors sage, who through Parnassus teach,
Or quit the tub, or practise what you preach.
Wake now, my Soul, and humbly hear
© John Austin
Wake now, my Soul, and humbly hear
What thy mild Lord commands:
Let Us Fly!
© Alfred Austin
Giacomo! back to the stable;
I shan't want the horses to-night.
And see you be gentle with Mabel;
It is not her temper, but fright.
Soft and warm, deep and broad, be her litter,
And her mane most caressingly curled.
Robin And Harry
© Jonathan Swift
Robin to beggars with a curse,
Throws the last shilling in his purse;
And when the coachman comes for pay,
The rogue must call another day.
Who Lights The Fire?
© George MacDonald
Who lights the fire-that forth so gracefully
And freely frolicketh the fairy smoke?
Some pretty one who never felt the yoke-
Glad girl, or maiden more sedate than she.
To William Mitford, Esq.
© Henry James Pye
Mitford, the candid Critic of my lays,
Who oft when wild my careless Muse would sing
Kill your Balmand its Odors bless you
© Emily Dickinson
Kill your Balmand its Odors bless you
Bare your Jessamineto the storm
And she will fling her maddest perfume
Haplyyour Summer night to Charm
Mozarts Grave
© Alfred Austin
Where lies Mozart? Tradition shows
A likely spot: so much, no more:
No words of his own time disclose
When crossed He to the Further Shore,
Though later ages, roused to shame,
On tardy tomb have carved his name.
Vae Victis
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Beside the placid sea that mirrored her
With the old glory of dawn that cannot die,
Poem
© Bert Leston Taylor
Time's the Master Critic,
Only he can say
What, among these verses,
Good and bad and worse is --
What will live for aye.
Saul And David
© Richard Monckton Milnes
``An evil spirit lieth on our King!''
So went the wailful tale up Israel,
From Gilgal unto Gibeah; town and camp
Caught the sad fame that spread like pestilence,
Too Big A Price
© Edgar Albert Guest
"They say my boy is bad," she said to me,
A tired old woman, thin and very frail.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Student's Tale; The Cobbler of Hagenau
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Outside his door, one afternoon,
This humble votary of the muse
Sat in the narrow strip of shade
By a projecting cornice made,
Mending the Burgomaster's shoes,
And singing a familiar tune:--
The King's Tragedy James I. Of Scots.20th February 1437
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I Catherine am a Douglas born,
A name to all Scots dear;
In The Desert
© Ernest Favenc
A cloudless sky oerhead, and all around
The level country stretching like a sea
A dull grey sea, that had no seeming bound,
The very semblance of eternity.
An Oriental Apologue
© James Russell Lowell
Somewhere in India, upon a time,
(Read it not Injah, or you spoil the verse,)
The Dome Of Sunday
© Karl Shapiro
With focus sharp as Flemish-painted face
In film of varnish brightly fixed
The Oriental Nosegay. By Pickersgill
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Beautiful language! Love's peculiar, own,
But only to the spring and summer known.
Ah! little marvel in such clime and age
As that of our too earth-bound pilgrimage,
That we should daily hear that love is fled,
And hope grown pale, and lighted feelings dead.
