Good poems

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The Sisters

© John Greenleaf Whittier

ANNIE and Rhoda, sisters twain,

Woke in the night to the sound of rain,

The Task: Book IV. -- The Winter Evening

© William Cowper

Hark! tis the twanging horn oer yonder bridge,

That with its wearisome but needful length

As I walk down to Bishop Street I met a girl who smiled so sweet
Now she was young and pretty too
And on a string she walked with a thing called the Floobie Doobie Doo
Oh the Floobie Doobie Doo now what is that it ain't no dog and it ain't no cat
It's not the doll with eyes of blue
I never seen such a thing as thing called the Floobie Doobie Doo

An Unanswerable Apology For The Rich.

© Mary Barber

All--bounteous Heav'n, Castalio cries,
With bended Knees, and lifted Eyes,
When shall I have the Pow'r to bless,
And raise up Merit in Distress?

The Prophecy Of Capys

© Thomas Babbington Macaulay

X.
So marched they along the lake;
They marched by fold and stall,
By cornfield and by vineyard,
Unto the old man's hall.

An Unfinished Poem

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

All night I've heard the marsh-frog's croak,

The jay's rude matins now prevail,

Pharsalia - Book I: The Crossing Of The Rubicon

© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus

First of such deeds I purpose to unfold
The causes - task immense - what drove to arms
A maddened nation, and from all the world
Struck peace away.

The Lady's Dream

© Thomas Hood

The lady lay in her bed,
Her couch so warm and soft,
But her sleep was restless and broken still;
For turning often and oft
From side to side, she mutter'd and moan'd,
And toss'd her arms aloft.

The Holy Island

© William Henry Drummond

Dey call it de Holy Islan'

W'ere de lighthouse stan' alone,

Ode

© William Wordsworth

I
IMAGINATION--ne'er before content,
But aye ascending, restless in her pride
From all that martial feats could yield

The Tewkesbury Road

© John Masefield

It is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where,
Going through meadow and village, one knows not whither or why;
Through the grey light drift of the dust, in the keen cool rush of the air,
Under the flying white clouds, and the broad blue lift of the sky.

My Three Hoboes

© Vernon Scannell

In the bullion bar of a bright hotel

Golf Pride

© Edgar Albert Guest

As a golfer I'm not one who cops the money,

I shall always be a member of the dubs;

The Dog Star Pup

On the silver edge of a vacant star near the trembling Pleiades,
A Hobo, lately arrived from earth sat rubbing his rusty chin,
All unaware, as he waited there with his elbows on his knees,
That an angel stood at the Golden Gate, impatient to let him in.

The Parlour

Warm is the parlour atmosphere,

Serene the lamp's soft light;

The Beggar

A beggar through the world am I,
From place to place I wander by.
Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me,
For Christ's sweet sake and charity!

Prosopopoia : or, Mother Hubbards Tale

Yet he the name on him would rashly take,
Maugre the sacred Muses, and it make
A servant to the vile affection
Of such, as he depended most upon;
And with the sugrie sweete thereof allure
Chast Ladies eares to fantasies impure.