Food poems

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The Victories Of Love. Book II

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

II
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill

Then Enid pondered in her heart, and said:
'I will go back a little to my lord,
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die,
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.'

Actors Waiting In The Wings Of Europe (incomplete)

© Keith Douglas

Actors waiting in the wings of Europe
we already watch the lights on the stage
and listen to the colossal overture begin.
For us entering at the height of the din
it will be hard to hear our thoughts, hard to gauge
how much our conduct owes to fear or fury.

Sonnets At Christmas I

© Allen Tate

This is the day His hour of life draws near,

Let me get ready from head to foot for it

Hymn To Mercury

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF HOMER.
I.
Sing, Muse, the son of Maia and of Jove,
The Herald-child, king of Arcadia

The Farmer's Boy - Spring

© Robert Bloomfield

Down, indignation! hence, ideas foul!
Away the shocking image from my soul!
Let kindlier visitants attend my way,
Beneath approaching _Summer's_ fervid ray;
Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy,
Whilst the sweet theme is _universal joy_.

Riddles

© George MacDonald

Who is it that sleeps like a top all night,
And wakes in the morning so fresh and bright
That he breaks his bed as he gets up,
And leaves it smashed like a china cup?

Talking To The Moon

© William Matthews

But some people hoard words.
"The year the lake froze all the way
across . . . ," a sentence might begin
and then nod, sleepy in a hot kitchen.
The words are a spell to make the lake
freeze again. The sentence never ends.

The Death Of Shelley

© Charles Harpur

Fit winding-sheet for thee
Was the upheaving eternal sea,
Fit dirge the tempests slave-alarming roll
For yokeless as the waves alway

The Duellist - Book II

© Charles Churchill

Deep in the bosom of a wood,

Out of the road, a Temple stood:

The Worlds Exile

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Well, I will tell you, kind adviser,
Why thus I ever roam
In distant lands, nor wish to guide
My footsteps to the fair hill--side
Where stands my sacred home.

Roman Elegies

Then would the world be no world, then would e'en Rome be no Rome.
-----
Do not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender

Grandmother Speaks of the Old Country by Lola Haskins: American Life in Poetry #64 Ted Kooser, U.S.

© Ted Kooser

Storytelling binds the past and present together, and is as essential to community life as are food and shelter. Many of our poets are masters at reshaping family stories as poetry. Here Lola Haskins retells a haunting tale, cast in the voice of an elder. Like the best stories, there are no inessential details. Every word counts toward the effect.

Grandmother Speaks of the Old Country

Christmas Landscape

© Laurie Lee

Tonight the wind gnaws
With teeth of glass,
The jackdaw shivers
In caged branches of iron,
The stars have talons.

The Lady of the Lake: Canto VI. - The Guardroom

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl,
That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack,
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack;
Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor,
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar!

© Joel Barlow

His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,