Food poems

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Orlando Furioso Canto 9

© Ludovico Ariosto

ARGUMENT

So far Orlando wends, he comes to where

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To her most Honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq; these humbly presented.

© Anne Bradstreet

Dear Sir of late delighted with the sight

Of your four Sisters cloth'd in black and white,

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Aforetime

© Thomas Sturge Moore

Thou findest parables;
With fond imagination
Adorning truth
For the successive
Unpersuaded
Generations.

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Tale I

© George Crabbe

THE DUMB ORATORS; OR THE BENEFIT OF SOCIETY.

That all men would be cowards if they dare,

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Upon A Snail

© John Bunyan

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure,

She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do.

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To A Young Lady, On Being Too Fond Of Music

© Charles Lamb

Why is your mind thus all day long
 Upon your music set;
Till reason's swallowed in a song,
 Or idle canzonet?

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Found Letter by Joshua Weiner: American Life in Poetry #123 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006

© Ted Kooser

There is a type of poem, the Found Poem, that records an author's discovery of the beauty that occasionally occurs in the everyday discourse of others. Such a poem might be words scrawled on a wadded scrap of paper, or buried in the classified ads, or on a billboard by the road. The poet makes it his or her poem by holding it up for us to look at. Here the Washington, D.C., poet Joshua Weiner directs us to the poetry in a letter written not by him but to him.


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The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto II

© Richard Savage


What scene of agony the garden brings;
The cup of gall; the suppliant king of kings!
The crown of thorns; the cross, that felt him die;
These, languid in the sketch, unfinish'd lie.

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The Song of the Red Man

© Henry Clay Work

They came! they came! like the fierce prairie flame,
Sweeping on to the sun-setting shore:
Gazing now on its waves, but a handful of braves,
We shall join in the the chase nevermore
Till we camp on the plains where the Great Spirit reigns,
We shall join in the chase nevermore.

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Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning


I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."

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The Cry Of The People

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Fire! Fire! Fire! the cry rang out on the night air,
The roving winds caught it up, and the very heavens resounded.
Louder and louder still, by voices grown hoarse with terror,
The cry went up and out and a nation stood still to listen.

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Tannhauser

© Emma Lazarus

Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.

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The Traveller; or, A Prospect of Society

© Oliver Goldsmith

Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow

Or by the lazy Scheldt or wandering Po,

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The Capture

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

Duck come switchin' 'cross de lot

  Hi, oh, Miss Lady!

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The Four Seasons : Autumn

© James Thomson

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost

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Beer

© Charles Stuart Calverley

In those old days which poets say were golden -

  (Perhaps they laid the gilding on themselves:

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Wind-Clouds And Star-Drifts

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Here am I, bound upon this pillared rock,
Prey to the vulture of a vast desire
That feeds upon my life. I burst my bands
And steal a moment's freedom from the beak,
The clinging talons and the shadowing plumes;
Then comes the false enchantress, with her song;

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Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 251-500 (Whinfield Translation)

© Omar Khayyám

Are you depressed? Then take of bhang one grain,
Of rosy grape-juice take one pint or twain;
Sufis, you say, must not take this or that,
Then go and eat the pebbles off the plain!

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Bonny Mary O!

© John Clare

The morning opens fine, bonny Mary O!
  The robin sings his song by the dairy O!
Where the little Jenny wrens cock their tails among the hens,
  Singing morning's happy songs with Mary O!

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The Hall Of Justice

© George Crabbe

Take, take away thy barbarous hand,
And let me to thy Master speak;
Remit awhile the harsh command,
And hear me, or my heart will break.