Great poems
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The Open Road
© Katharine Tynan
THE roads of the Sea
Are thronged with merchantmen;
East and West, North and South
They go and come again.
the seed of endymion
© Rg Gregory
two beauties are a joy for ever
ejaculated keats
lusting in ecstasy towards
well-breasted fanny brawne
natural therapy
© Rg Gregory
the great thing about the tall white daisy
is that it knows how to laugh at itselfsome flowers for all their rich displays
won't preen themselves without a primnessin their sap - nor let their stalks abide
bending this way that way in the thick windthe large daisy is happy to be slapdash
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 01 - Proem
© Lucretius
Mother of Rome, delight of Gods and men,
Dear Venus that beneath the gliding stars
Boccaccio
© Eugene Field
One day upon a topmost shelf
I found a precious prize indeed,
Which father used to read himself,
But did not want us boys to read;
Eclogue the Third Abra
© William Taylor Collins
SCENE, a forest TIME, the Evening
In Georgia's land, where Tefflis' towers are seen,
The Grave
© Robert Blair
While some affect the sun, and some the shade,
Some flee the city, some the hermitage;
Their aims as various, as the roads they take
In journeying through life;the task be mine,
welsh experience
© Rg Gregory
called out by the sun
this easter saturday morning
i'm sitting on a bank
in pistyllgwyn
The Spartans At Thermopylae
© Richard Monckton Milnes
No parleying with themselves, no pausing thought
Of worse or better consequence, was there,
Their business was to do what Spartans ought,
Sparta's chaste honour was their only care.
the rest home
© Rg Gregory
professor piebald
(the oldest man in the home) was meek
at the same time ribald
he clothed his matter (so to speak)
thirteeners
© Rg Gregory
18
if you want a revolution attack
symbols not systems - the simple forms
that (blithely) give the truth away
tying down millions to their terms
quietly with no one answering back
Oxford
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
OVER, the four long years! And now there rings
One voice of freedom and regret: Farewell!
Now old remembrance sorrows, and now sings:
But song from sorrow, now, I cannot tell.
Young Blood
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"But, sir," I said, "they tell me the man is like to die!" The Canon shook his head indulgently. "Young blood, Cousin," he boomed. "Young blood! Youth will be served!"
-- D'Hermonville's Fabliaux.
He woke up with a sick taste in his mouth
And lay there heavily, while dancing motes
Winged Man
© Stephen Vincent Benet
The moon, a sweeping scimitar, dipped in the stormy straits,
The dawn, a crimson cataract, burst through the eastern gates,
The cliffs were robed in scarlet, the sands were cinnabar,
Where first two men spread wings for flight and dared the hawk afar.
The Quality of Courage
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Was it not better so to lie?
The fight was done. Even gods tire
Of fighting. . . . My way was the wrong.
Now I should drift and drift along
To endless quiet, golden peace . . .
And let the tortured body cease.
Benedetta Minelli
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IT is near morning. Ere the next night fall
I shall be made the bride of heaven. Then home
To my still marriage chamber I shall come,
And spouseless, childless, watch the slow years crawl.
The Hemp
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Captain Hawk scourged clean the seas
(Black is the gap below the plank)
From the Great North Bank to the Caribbees
(Down by the marsh the hemp grows rank).
The Fiddling Wood
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Gods, what a black, fierce day! The clouds were iron,
Wrenched to strange, rugged shapes; the red sun winked
Over the rough crest of the hairy wood
In angry scorn; the grey road twisted, kinked,
Like a sick serpent, seeming to environ
The trees with magic. All the wood was still --
The General Public
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"Ah, did you once see Shelley plain?" -- Browning.
"Shelley? Oh, yes, I saw him often then,"
The old man said. A dry smile creased his face
With many wrinkles. "That's a great poem, now!
That one of Browning's! Shelley? Shelley plain?
The time that I remember best is this --
