Children poems
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Human Life
© Samuel Rogers
An hour like this is worth a thousand passed
In pomp or ease - 'Tis present to the last!
Years glide away untold - 'Tis still the same!
As fresh, as fair as on the day it came!
The Liberty Song
© John Dickinson
COME join hand in hand brave Americans all,
And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call;
No tyrannous acts shall suppress your just claim,
Or stain with dishonour America's name.
On Resigning A Scholarship Of Trinity College, Oxford
© William Lisle Bowles
AND RETIRING TO A COUNTRY CURACY.
Farewell! a long farewell! O Poverty,
The Old Wooden Tub
© Edgar Albert Guest
I like to get to thinking of the old days that are gone,
When there were joys that never more the world will look upon,
The days before inventors smoothed the little cares away
And made, what seemed but luxuries then, the joys of every day;
When bathrooms were exceptions, and we got our weekly scrub
By standing in the middle of a little wooden tub.
Hymn for Atonement Day
© Yehudah HaLevi
Lord, Your humble servants hear,
Suppliant now before You,
Our Father, from Your children's plea
Turn not, we implore You!
Australasia
© William Charles Wentworth
Hadst thou, old Cynic, seen this unclad crew
Stretch their bare bodies in the nightly dew,
Like hairy Satyrs, midst their Sylvan seats,
Endure both winter's frosts, and summer's heats;
Thy cloak and tub away thou wouldst have cast,
And tried, like them, to brave the piercing blast.
Children: Private Ward
© William Ernest Henley
Here in this dim, dull, double-bedded room,
I play the father to a brace of boys,
The House Of Dust: Part 01: 07:
© Conrad Aiken
'The bells have just struck twelve: I should be sleeping.
But I cannot delay any longer to write and tell you.
The woman is dead.
She diedyou know the way. Just as we planned.
Smiling, with open sunlit eyes.
Smiling upon the outstretched fatal hand . . .'
The Early Bird
© George MacDonald
A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;
Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as tops;
Day-long she had worked almost without rest,
And had filled every one of their gibbous crops;
Her own she had filled just over-full,
And she felt like a dead bird stuffed with wool.
At The Banquet To the Japanese Embassy
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WE welcome you, Lords of the Land of the Sun!
The voice of the many sounds feebly through one;
Ah! would 't were a voice of more musical tone,
But the dog-star is here, and the song-birds have flown.
Alsace-Lorraine
© George Meredith
Yet the like aerial growths may chance be the delicate sprays,
Infant of Earth's most urgent in sap, her fierier zeal
For entry on Life's upper fields: and soul thus flourishing pays
The martyr's penance, mark for brutish in man to heel.
The School-Mistress
© William Shenstone
Auditae voces, vagitus et ingens,
Infantunque animae flentes in limine primo. ~ Virg.
The Wind And The Whirlwind
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I have a thing to say. But how to say it?
I have a cause to plead. But to what ears?
How shall I move a world by lamentation,
A world which heeded not a Nation's tears?
An Experiment In Translation
© Alfred Austin
Blest husbandmen! if they but knew their bliss!
For whom, from war remote, fair-minded Earth
The Grave Of Howard
© William Lisle Bowles
Spirit of Death! whose outstretched pennons dread
Wave o'er the world beneath their shadow spread;
