Great poems
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If Your Wife Is Run Down, Give Her Cod Liver Oil
© Burke Johnny
I'm a young married man, Who is tired of my life,Ten years I'm glued on To a pale sickly wife,She does nothing all day, Only sit down and cry,And I hope to the Lord She'll get better or die.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne
© Gelett Burgess
WAKE! For the Hack can scatter into flightShakespere and Dante in a single Night! The Penny-a-liner is Abroad, and strikesOur Modern Literature with blithering Blight.
To her friends said the Bright one in chatter
© Buller A. H. Reginald
To her friends said the Bright one in chatter,"I have learned something new about matter: My speed was so great, Much increased was my weight,Yet I failed to become any fatter!"
The Pied Piper of Hamelin: A Child's Story
© Robert Browning
(Written for, and inscribed to, W. M. the Younger)
The Bishop Orders his Tomb at Saint Praxed's Church Rome, 15--
© Robert Browning
Vanity, saith the preacher, vanity!Draw round my bed: is Anselm keeping back?Nephews--sons mine
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXXII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The first time that the sun rose on thine oathTo love me, I looked forward to the moonTo slacken all those bonds which seemed too soonAnd quickly tied to make a lasting troth
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
A heavy heart, Belovèd, have I borneFrom year to year until I saw thy face,And sorrow after sorrow took the placeOf all those natural joys as lightly wornAs the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turnBy a beating heart at dance-time
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XX
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Belovèd, my Belovèd, when I thinkThat thou wast in the world a year ago,What time I sat alone here in the snowAnd saw no footprint, heard the silence sinkNo moment at thy voice, but, link by link,Went counting all my chains as if that soThey never could fall off at any blowStruck by thy possible hand,-why, thus I drinkOf life's great cup of wonder! Wonderful,Never to feel thee thrill the day or nightWith personal act or speech,-nor ever cullSome prescience of thee with the blossoms whiteThou sawest growing! Atheists are as dull,Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight
Sonnets from the Portuguese: X
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeedAnd worthy of acceptation
Risus Dei
© Brown Thomas Edward
Methinks in Him there dwells alwayA sea of laughter very deep,Where the leviathans leap,And little children play,Their white feet twinkling on its crisped edge;But in the outer bayThe strong man drives the wedgeOf polished limbs,And swims
"An autumn evening in the modest square"
© Joseph Brodsky
An autumn evening in the modest squareof a small town proud to have made the atlas(some frenzy drove that poor mapmaker witless,or else he had the daughter of the mayor).
Each day I see the long ships coming into port
© Christopher John Brennan
Each day I see the long ships coming into portand the people crowding to their rail, glad of the shore:because to have been alone with the sea and not to have knownof anything happening in any crowded way,and to have heard no other voice than the crooning sea'shas charmed away the old rancours, and the great windshave search'd and swept their hearts of the old irksome thoughts:so, to their freshen'd gaze, each land smiles a good home
LXX
© Boker George Henry
My lady's senses are so pure and fine,She takes small pleasure in the close embraceThat love and nature in me coarsely traceAs the great end to which all hearts incline
Fogarty's Gin
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall,And a message: "Come out to the back of the run--Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun!Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay:For the men from Monkyra have mustered the run--Cows and calves, calves of ours, without ever a brand,Fifty head, if there's one, on the camp there they stand
The Digger's Song
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Scrape the bottom of the hole: gather up the stuff! Fossick in the crannies, lest you leave a grain behind!Just another shovelful and that'll be enough-- Now we'll take it to the bank and see what we can find
To One on her Birthday
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How shall I choose to wish you happinessOn this day or another? Your life's wayHas passed already far beyond our guess,Who only watch and wait for you and pray
