Food poems
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The Muscovy Duck
© Henry Lawson
THE ROOSTER is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest,
The hens an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best;
To A Certain Critic
© George MacDonald
Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind
When I my homely dish with care designed;
A Hidden Life
© George MacDonald
Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.
Paradise Regain'd : Book I.
© John Milton
I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
The Four Seasons : Summer
© James Thomson
From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
A Lay Of St. Nicholas
© Richard Harris Barham
Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess;
I am a-weary, and worn with woe;
Many a grief doth my heart oppress,
And haunt me whithersoever I go!'
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 07 - The Infinity Of The Universe
© Lucretius
For one thing after other will grow clear,
Nor shall the blind night rob thee of the road,
To hinder thy gaze on Nature's Farthest-forth.
Thus things for things shall kindle torches new.
The Troubadour. Canto 3
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
But sadness moved him when he gave
DE VALENCE to his lowly grave,--
The grave where the wild flowers were sleeping,
And one pale olive-tree was weeping,--
And placed the rude stone cross to show
A Christian hero lay below.
The Hermit of Thebaid
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O strong, upwelling prayers of faith,
From inmost founts of life ye start,-
The spirit's pulse, the vital breath
Of soul and heart!
Another Mouth To Feed
© Edgar Albert Guest
We've got another mouth to feed,
From out our little store;
The Busy Heart
© Rupert Brooke
Now that weve done our best and worst, and parted,
I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
Ill think of Love in books, Love without end;
Busy Heart, The
© Rupert Brooke
Now that we've done our best and worst, and parted,
I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
I'll think of Love in books, Love without end;
The Great Lover
© Rupert Brooke
O dear my loves, O faithless, once again
This one last gift I give: that after men
Shall know, and later lovers, far-removed,
Praise you, "All these were lovely"; say "He loved".
The End of the World
© Erica Jong
Here, at the end of the world,
the poets are bleeding.
Writing & bleeding
are thought to be the same;
singing & bleeding
are thought to be the same.
Autumn Perspective
© Erica Jong
Now we plan, postponing, pushing our lives forward
into the future--as if, when the room
contains us and all our treasured junk
we will have filled whatever gap it is
that makes us wander, discontented
from ourselves.
The Christ upon the Hill
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
A couple old sat o'er the fire,
And they were bent and gray;
They burned the charcoal for their Lord,
Who lived long leagues away.
Orpheus
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint,
But more melodious than the murmuring wind
Which through the columns of a temple glides?
Ode To Salt
© Pablo Neruda
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
Beachy Head
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy stupendous summit, rock sublime !
That o'er the channel rear'd, half way at sea
The Bride.
© Robert Crawford
Her bridal dawn! her heart was fed
Last night with eerie food,
As, one by one, her lovers dead
Came in the solitude,
