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Hay
© Ted Hughes
The grass is happy
To run like the sea, to be glossed like a minks fur
By polishing wind.
Her heart is the weather.
She loves nobody
Least of all the farmer who leans on the gate.
Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio
© John Keats
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
The Story of Flying Robert
© Heinrich Hoffmann
When the rain comes tumbling down
In the country or the town,
All good little girls and boys
Stay at home and mind their toys.
Tour Abroad of Wilfrid the Great
© Alexander MacGregor Rose
W'en Queen Victoria calls her peup's
For mak' some Jubilee,
She sen' for men from all de worl' -
And from her colonie.
Next Of Kin
© Edgar Albert Guest
I notice when the news comes in
Of one who's claimed eternal glory,
The Ropewalk. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In that building, long and low,
With its windows all a-row,
Like the port-holes of a hulk,
Human spiders spin and spin,
Backward down their threads so thin
Dropping, each a hempen bulk.
The Surgeon At 2 A.M.
© Sylvia Plath
The white light is artificial, and hygienic as heaven.
The microbes cannot survive it.
Jump-To-Glory Jane
© George Meredith
A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.
A Story Of Doom: Book IV.
© Jean Ingelow
Now while these evil ones took counsel strange,
The son of Lamech journeyed home; and, lo!
The Brothers
© Madison Julius Cawein
Not far from here, it lies beyond
That low-hilled belt of woods. We'll take
This unused lane where brambles make
A wall of twilight, and the blond
Brier-roses pelt the path and flake
The margin waters of a pond.
The Tower Beyond Tragedy
© Robinson Jeffers
I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
The Ships Of Yule
© Bliss William Carman
They stopped at every port to call
From Babylon to Rome,
To load with all the lovely things
We never had at home;
Oh! Had I the Wings of a Bird
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Oh! had I the wings of a bird,
To soar through the blue, sunny sky,
Memories
© William Henry Drummond
O spirit of the mountain that speaks to us to-night,
Your voice is sad, yet still recalls past visions of delight,
When 'mid the grand old Laurentides, old when the earth was new,
With flying feet we followed the moose and caribou.
Eighteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
It is so-ope thine eyes, and see -
What viewest thou all around?
A desert, where iniquity
And knowledge both abound.
The Telegraph Clerk
© Anonymous
Sitting here by my desk all day,
Hearing the constant click
As the messages speed on their way,
And the call comes sharp and quick--
The Cattle-Dog's Death
© Henry Lawson
The Plains lay bare on the homeward route,
And the march was heavy on man and brute;
For the Spirit of Drought was on all the land,
And the white heat danced on the glowing sand.
