Food poems
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Genesis BK XIII
© Caedmon
The sleep of death and fiends' seduction; death and hell and
exile and damnation - these were the fatal fruit whereon they
feasted. And when the apple worked within him and touched his
heart, then laughed aloud the evilhearted fiend, capered about,
and gave thanks to his lord for both:
Jim the Splitter
© Henry Kendall
The bard who is singing of Wollombi Jim
Is hardly just now in the requisite trim
To sit on his Pegasus fairly;
Besides, he is bluntly informed by the Muse
That Jim is a subject no singer should choose;
For Jim is poetical rarely.
In the Home Stretch
© Robert Frost
Never was I beladied so before.
Would evidence of having been called lady
More than so many times make me a lady
In common law, I wonder.
Even-Song
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
IT may be, yes, it must be, Time that brings
An end to mortal things,
A Little Christmas Basket
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
De win' is hollahin' "Daih you" to de shuttahs an' de fiah,
De snow's a-sayin' "Got you" to de groun',
Songs of the Voices of Birds: A Poet in his Youth, and the Cuckoo-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
“O, I hear thee in the blue;
Would that I might wing it too!
O to have what hope hath seen!
O to be what might have been!
The Bard's Incantation
© Sir Walter Scott
The Forest of Glenmore is drear,
It is all of black pine, and the dark oak-tree;
The Borough. Letter XXII: Peter Grimes
© George Crabbe
Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
But must acquire the money he would spend.
Jericho; or, The Waters Healed
© John Newton
Though Jericho pleasantly stood,
And looked like a promising soil;
1991-ii
© Wendell Berry
The ewes crowd to the mangers;
Their bellies widen, sag;
Their udders tighten. Soon
The little voices cry
The Beach Comber
© Harry Kemp
I'd like to return to the world again,
To the dutiful, work-a-day world of men, -
The Parish Register - Part II: Marriages
© George Crabbe
made.
Yet now, would Phoebe her consent afford,
Her slave alone, again he'd mount the board;
With her should years of growing love be spent,
And growing wealth;--she sigh'd and look'd consent.
Now, through the lane, up hill, and 'cross the
Prometheus Unbound
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
First Voice.
But never bowed our snowy crest
As at the voice of thine unrest.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part IV
© Madison Julius Cawein
_They who die young are blest.--
Should we not envy such?
They are Earth's happiest,
God-loved and favored much!--
They who die young are blest._
