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The Bards Who Lived at Manly
© Henry Lawson
The camp of high-class spielers,
Who sneered in summer dress,
Soldier Freddy
© Spike Milligan
Soldier Freddy
was never ready,
But! Soldier Neddy,
unlike Freddy
Was always ready
and steady,
201. Birthday Ode for 31st December, 1787
© Robert Burns
AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams,
Whom kingdoms on this day should hail;
An inmate in the casual shed,
On transient pitys bounty fed,
For City Lovers
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Do not desire to seek who once we were,
Or where we did, or what, or in whose name.
144. A Winter Night
© Robert Burns
WHEN biting Boreas, fell and dour,
Sharp shivers thro the leafless bowr;
When Phoebus gies a short-livd glowr,
Far south the lift,
Watching For Pa
© Henry Clay Work
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
The Splendid Shilling
© John Arthur Phillips
- - Sing, Heavenly Muse,
Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime,
A Shilling, Breeches, and Chimera's Dire.
The Child-World
© James Whitcomb Riley
There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows
Cool even now the fevered sight that knows
No more its airy visions of pure joy--
As when you were a boy.
Book Fifth-Books
© William Wordsworth
There was a Boy: ye knew him well, ye cliffs
And islands of Winander!--many a time
At evening, when the earliest stars began
To move along the edges of the hills,
Rising or setting, would he stand alone
Beneath the trees or by the glimmering lake,
It was you, Atthis, who said
© Sappho
It was you, Atthis, who said
"Sappho, if you will not get
up and let us look at you
I shall never love you again!
533. SongForlorn, my love, no comfort here
© Robert Burns
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.
A Remonstrance to the Poet Campbell, on Proposing to Take up His Permanent Residence in London
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Dear Poet of Hope! who hast charmed us so long
With thy strains of home-music, sweet, solemn, and strong;
Jacqueline
© Samuel Rogers
'Twas Autumn; thro' Provence had ceased
The vintage, and the vintage-feast.
The sun had set behind the hill,
The moon was up, and all was still,
The Dream Of The World Without Death
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
NOW, sitting by her side, worn out with weeping,
Behold, I fell to sleep, and had a vision,
On Lady Charles Beauclerc's Death
© Walter Savage Landor
Nor empty are the honours that we pay
To the departed; our own hearts are fill'd
Home
© George Herbert
Come, Lord, my head doth burn, my heart is sick,
While thou dost ever, ever stay:
Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick,
My spirit gaspeth night and day.
O show thy self to me,
Or take me up to thee!
80. The Jolly Beggars: A Cantata
© Robert Burns
AirTuneSoldiers Joy.I am a son of Mars who have been in many wars,
And show my cuts and scars wherever I come;
This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench,
When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum.
Lal de daudle, &c.
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts I.-II.
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
