Cool poems
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The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne
© Gelett Burgess
WAKE! For the Hack can scatter into flightShakespere and Dante in a single Night! The Penny-a-liner is Abroad, and strikesOur Modern Literature with blithering Blight.
My Garden
© Brown Thomas Edward
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool,Ferned grot-- The veriest school Of peace; and yet the foolContends that God is not--Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool? Nay, but I have a sign; 'Tis very sure God walks in mine
The Photographer
© Bramer Shannon
What it means to carry a camerais to speak out of the emptyframe seeing God, Sky, Road, her returnand faith in the perfection of deserts
A Vision out West
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Far reaching down's a solid sea sunk everlastingly to rest,And yet whose billows seem to be for ever heaving toward the westThe tiny fieldmice make their nests, the summer insects buzz and humAmong the hollows and the crests of this wide ocean stricken dumb,Whose rollers move for ever on, though sullenly, with fettered wills,To break in voiceless wrath upon the crumbled bases of far hills,Where rugged outposts meet the shock, stand fast, and hurl them back again,An avalanche of earth and rock, in tumbled fragments on the plain;But, never heeding the rebuff, to right and left they kiss the feetOf hanging cliff and bouldered bluff till on the farther side they meet,And once again resume their march to where the afternoon sun dipsToward the west, and Heaven's arch salutes the Earth with ruddy lips
On the Boundary
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
I love the ancient boundary-fence-- That mouldering chock-and-log:When I go ride the boundary I let the old horse jog,And take his pleasure in and out Where sandalwood grows dense,And tender pines clasp hands across The log that tops the fence
Fogarty's Gin
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall,And a message: "Come out to the back of the run--Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun!Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay:For the men from Monkyra have mustered the run--Cows and calves, calves of ours, without ever a brand,Fifty head, if there's one, on the camp there they stand
An Inventory of the Furniture in Dr. Priestley's Study
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
A map of every country known,With not a foot to call his own
Beauty Sat Bathing by a Spring
© Anonymous
Beauty sat bathing by a spring, Where fairest shades did hide her;The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her
The Old Timer
© Anderson Robert Thompson
Far, far across the rolling swale, I've watched the bison pass;I've seen the lonely prairie trail Wind thro' the rustling grass;I've felt the cool winds sweep the plain Where Nature's hand is free;But now they break o'er leagues of grain, Like ripples o'er the sea
The Campaign
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign
Refreshment
© Adams Mary Electa
Hast thou had hours when life seemed empty all,And waste the garden thou wert set to till,Like tide-swept sands that only white and stillUnanswering lay beneath the heaven's gray pall?No ripening fruit to offer at His call,Discouragement hath waited on the will;And did some human voice, that bro't a thrillOut of the silence, on thy hearing fall:"I could not rest till I had come to seeAnd tell you how your life hath blessed mine own"?Burst a cool spring; the heart, refreshed and free,Went on its way under a smiling sun
Anglosaxon Street
© Earle Birney
Dawndrizzle ended dampness steams fromblotching brick and blank plasterwasteFaded housepatterns hoary and finickyunfold stuttering stick like a phonograph
A Lazy Day
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THE trees bend down along the stream,
Where anchored swings my tiny boat.
Songs Of The Season
© Alexander Bathgate
Bird in thy mossy nest
Cosily hid,
Bird in thy mossy nest
Young leaves amid;
"The Undying One" - Canto III
© Caroline Norton
"I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
