Design poems

/ page 36 of 69 /

Order by :

1
. . .
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
. . .
69

M'Fingal - Canto II

© John Trumbull

"T' evade these crimes of blackest grain
You prate of liberty in vain,
And strive to hide your vile designs
In terms abstruse, like school-divines.

Hymn To Adversity

© Thomas Gray

Daughter of Jove, relentless Power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour
The Bad affright, afflict the Best!

The Friar's Tale

© Geoffrey Chaucer

"Peace, with mischance and with misaventure,"
Our Hoste said, "and let him tell his tale.
Now telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,* *whistle; bawl
Nor spare not, mine owen master dear."

The Wife of Bath's Tale

© Geoffrey Chaucer

7. "But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and
silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and
some to dishonour." -- 2 Tim. ii 20.

I See A Woman Making Up

© Luis Benitez

I see a woman any woman making up and change
first she is thinking of something else (because when
a woman
begins to make up she hasn't yet separated this act

Walt Whitman.

© Walt Whitman

1
I CELEBRATE myself;
And what I assume you shall assume;
For every atom belonging to me, as good belongs to you.

A Letter from Artemesia in the Town to Chloe in the Country

© John Wilmot

Chloe,In verse by your command I write.
Shortly you'll bid me ride astride, and fight:
These talents better with our sex agree
Than lofty flights of dangerous poetry.

Satyr

© John Wilmot

Were I (who to my cost already am
One of those strange prodigious Creatures Man)
A Spirit free, to choose for my own share,
What Case of Flesh, and Blood, I pleas'd to weare,

Thus sir, you see what human nature craves,
Most men are cowards, all men should be knaves;
The difference lies, as far as I can see.
Not in the thing itself, but the degree;
And all the subject matter of debate
Is only, who's a knave of the first rate

A Ramble in St. James's Park

© John Wilmot

The second was a Grays Inn wit,
A great inhabiter of the pit,
Where critic-like he sits and squints,
Steals pocket handkerchiefs, and hints
From 's neighbor, and the comedy,
To court, and pay, his landlady.

Poems to Mulgrave and Scroope

© John Wilmot

Deare Friend. I heare this Towne does soe abound,
With sawcy Censurers, that faults are found,
With what of late wee (in Poetique Rage)
Bestowing, threw away on the dull Age;

An Allusion to Horace

© John Wilmot

Well Sir, 'tis granted, I said Dryden's Rhimes,
Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times:
What foolish Patron, is there found of his,
So blindly partial, to deny me this?

Benediction

© Charles Baudelaire

When, by decree of the supreme power,
The Poet appears in this annoyed world,
His mother, blasphemous out of horror
At God's pity, cries out with fists curled:

The Knight's Song

I'll tell thee everything I can:
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.

The White Knight's Song

'Haddock's Eyes' or 'The Aged Aged Man' or
'Ways and Means' or 'A-Sitting On A Gate'I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged, aged man,

The Aged Aged Man

I'll tell thee everything I can;
There's little to relate.
I saw an aged aged man,
A-sitting on a gate.

from To Alexis In Answer to His Poem Against Fruition

© Aphra Behn

Since man with that inconstancy was born,
To love the absent, and the present scorn
Why do we deck, why do we dress
For such short-lived happiness?
Why do we put attraction on,
Since either way tis we must be undone?