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Dornenlieder

© Charles Godfrey Leland

I.
FOR efery Rose dot ploome in spring,
Dey say an maid is porn;
For efery pain dot Rose vill make

A gentle vale, with rippling aspens clad,
Yet open to the breeze, invited rest.
So there I lay, and watched the sun's fierce beams
Reverberate in wreathed ethereal flame;
Or gazed upon the leaves which buzzed o'erhead,
Like tiny wings in simulated flight.

My Sort O' Man

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

I don't believe in 'ristercrats

An' never did, you see;

The Bakchesarian Fountain

© Alexander Pushkin

Has treason scaled the harem's wall,
Whose height might treason's self appal,
And slavery's daughter fled his power,
To yield her to the daring Giaour?

What I Have Seen #1

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I saw a mother give wine to her boy-
The rain-drops fall and fall:
The pride of his parents, a household joy,
A mother's blessing, her all.

Poem For The Two Hundred And Fiftieth Anniversary Of The Founding Of Harvard College

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Thou whose bold flight would leave earth's vulgar crowds,
And like the eagle soar above the clouds,
Must feel the pang that fallen angels know
When the red lightning strikes thee from below!

A Panegyric Of The Dean In The Person Of A Lady In The North

© Jonathan Swift

Resolved my gratitude to show,
Thrice reverend Dean, for all I owe,
Too long I have my thanks delay'd;
Your favours left too long unpaid;

The Broomstick Train; Or, The Return Of The Witches

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

I don't feel sure of his being good,
But he happened to be in a pleasant mood,--
As fiends with their skins full sometimes are,--
(He'd been drinking with "roughs" at a Boston bar.)
So what does he do but up and shout
To a graybeard turnkey, "Let 'em out!"

"Little Jack Janitor"

© James Whitcomb Riley

Then he tried
And rapped the little drawer in the side,
And called out sharply "Are you in there, Jack?"
And then a little, squeaky voice came back,--
"_Of course I'm in here--ain't you got the key
Turned on me!_"

Deborah

© Thomas Parnell

O King subdu'd! O Woman born to fame!
O Wake my fancy for the glorious theme,
O wake my fancy with the sense of praise,
O wake with warblings of triumphant lays.
The Land you rise in sultry suns invade,
But where you rise to sing you'le find a shade.

My Daughter

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

THOU hast thy mother's eyes, my child--
Her deep dark eyes: the undefiled
Sweetness which breathes around her mouth,
A perfect rosebud of the south,

1914

© Wilfred Owen

For after Spring had bloomed in early Greece,
And Summer blazed her glory out with Rome,
An Autumn softly fell, a harvest home,
A slow grand age, and rich with all increase.
But now, for us, wild Winter, and the need
Of sowings for new Spring, and blood for seed.

The Beech Tree

© Edith Nesbit

MY beautiful beech, your smooth grey coat is trimmed

With letters. Once, each stood for all things dear

A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - November

1.

THOU art of this world, Christ. Thou know'st it all;

June Thunder

The Junes were free and full, driving through tiny
Roads, the mudguards brushing the cowparsley,
Through fields of mustard and under boldly embattled
Mays and chestnuts