Good poems
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The Bridge
© Edward Thomas
I have come a long way to-day:
On a strange bridge alone,
Remembering friends, old friends,
I rest, without smile or moan,
As they remember me without smile or moan.
London Types: 'Liza
© William Ernest Henley
'Liza's old man's perhaps a little shady,
'Liza's old woman's prone to booze and cring;
Life's Single Standard
© Edgar Albert Guest
There are a thousand ways to cheat and a thousand ways to sin;
There are ways uncounted to lose the game, but there's only one way to win;
And whether you live by the sweat of your brow or in luxury's garb you're
dressed,
You shall stand at last, when your race is run, to be judged by the single
test.
The Cookie Jar
© Edgar Albert Guest
You can rig up a house with all manner of things,
The prayer rugs of sultans and princes and kings;
You can hang on its wall the old tapestries rare
Which some dead Egyptian once treasured with care;
But though costly and gorgeous its furnishings are,
It must have, to be homelike, an old cookie jar.
Shakespeare
© Mathilde Blind
The world of men, unrolled before our sight,
Showed like a map, where stream and waterfall
And village-cradling vale and cloud-capped height
Stand faithfully recorded, great and small;
For Shakespeare was, and at his touch, with light
Impartial as the Sun's, revealed the All.
The Twenty-Fifth Of April
© Roderic Quinn
THIS day is Anzac Day!
Made sacred by the memory
Of those who fought and died, and fought and live,
And gave the best that men may give
The Waiting
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I wait and watch: before my eyes
Methinks the night grows thin and gray;
I wait and watch the eastern skies
To see the golden spears uprise
Beneath the oriflamme of day!
Another Chance
© Henry Van Dyke
A DRAMATIC LYRIC
Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death!
The Pathway Of Rivers
© Henry Van Dyke
The rivers of God are full of water,
They are wonderful in the renewal of their strength,
He poureth them out from a hidden fountain.
Bristowe Tragedie: Or The Dethe Of Syr Charles Badwin
© Thomas Chatterton
THE featherd songster chaunticleer
Han wounde hys bugle horne,
Outside Fargo, North Dakota
© James Wright
Along the sprawled body of the derailed Great Northern freight car,
I strike a match slowly and lift it slowly.
No wind.
2nd Chorus Mexico City Blues
© Jack Kerouac
Man in the Middle
Is not Worried
He knows his Karma
Is not buried
Eclogue:--The Best Man In The Vield
© William Barnes
That's slowish work, Bob. What'st a-been about?
Thy pookèn don't goo on not over sprack.
Why I've a-pook'd my weäle, lo'k zee, clear out,
An' here I be ageän a-turnèn back.
Calidore: A Fragment
© John Keats
The sidelong view of swelling leafiness,
Which the glad setting sun, in gold doth dress;
Whence ever, and anon the jay outsprings,
And scales upon the beauty of its wings.
His Mother
© James Whitcomb Riley
DEAD! my wayward boy--_my own_--
Not _the Law's!_ but _mine_--the good
God's free gift to me alone,
Sanctified by motherhood.
The Six Sorrows
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
There are six sorrows in my heart
Red Allen, Clare, and Joan,
Sweet Bet, and Jock, and little Roy;
Six sorrows all my own.
