Cool poems
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Burning River
© Ortiz Simon Joseph
I will tell my son over and over again,"Do not let the rivers burn
"It's Great When You Get In"
© O'Neill Eugene
They told me the water was lovely, That I ought to go for a swim,The air was maybe a trifle cool, "You won't mind it when you get in"So I journeyed cheerfully beach-ward, And nobody put me wise,But everyone boosted my courage With an earful of jovial lies
The Virgin
© Harold Monro
Arms that have never held me; lips of himWho should have been for me; hair most beloved,I would have smoothed so gently; steadfast eyes,Half-closed, yet gazing at me through the dusk;And hands
Lovers in a London Shadow
© Harold Monro
You two, who woo, take record of to-night;(This corner, that arc-light):For you may never feel againSuch joyful pain.
Paradise Regain'd: Book III (1671)
© John Milton
SO spake the Son of God, and Satan stoodA while as mute confounded what to say,What to reply, confuted and convinc'tOf his weak arguing, and fallacious drift;At length collecting all his Serpent wiles,With soothing words renew'd, him thus accosts
Spanish Waters
© John Masefield
Spanish waters, Spanish waters, you are ringing in my ears,Like a slow sweet piece of music from the grey forgotten years;Telling tales, and beating tunes, and bringing weary thoughts to meOf the sandy beach at Muertos, where I would that I could be
The Wind Our Enemy
© Marriott Anne
Windflattening its gaunt furious self againstthe naked siding, knifing in the woundsof time, pausing to tear aside the lastold scab of paint.
The Song of the Hemp
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
The stubbled Hemp-field called the wind That passed with moistened eyes:
John Graydon
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
I own John Graydon's place--His elm trees moving with a lovely graceAs slow and stately as a minuet,His great lawns wearing shadows like black lace,Too lovely to forget
John-John
© MacDonagh Thomas
I dreamt last night of you, John-John, And thought you called to me;And when I woke this morning, John, Yourself I hoped to see;But I was all alone, John-John, Though still I heard your call:I put my boots and bonnet on, And took my Sunday shawl,And went, full sure to find you, John, To Nenagh fair
Mind your Knitting
© Linton William James
Lucy! mind your knitting: Blind as I may be,I am certain you're not sitting At your work by me
April
© Andrew Lang
April, pride of woodland ways, Of glad days,April, bringing hope of prime,To the young flowers that beneath Their bud sheathAre guarded in their tender time;
