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© Alfred Austin
Men deemed thee fallen, did they? fallen like Rome,
Coiled into self to foil a Vandal throng:
The Christmas Child
© George MacDonald
"Little one, who straight hast come
Down the heavenly stair,
Tell us all about your home,
And the father there."
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet I
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Care killed a cat, and I have cares at home,
Which vex me nightly and disturb my bed.
The things I love have all grown wearisome;
The things that loved me are estranged or dead.
Lines (With A Volume Of The Author's Poems Sent To M.R.C.)
© William Watson
Go, Verse, nor let the grass of tarrying grow
Beneath thy feet iambic. Southward go
Trial by Jury
© William Schwenck Gilbert
SCENE - A Court of Justice, Barristers, Attorney, and Jurymen
discovered.
The Giants Ring
© Robinson Jeffers
BALLYLESSON, NEAR BELFAST
Whoever is able will pursue the plainly
The Chantey Of The Cook (dithyramb of a discontented crew)
© Harry Kemp
The Devil take the cook, that old grey-bearded fellow,
Yo ho, haul away!
Who feeds us odds and ends and biscuits whiskered yellow,
And the home port's a thousand miles away.
The Dream: (For my Father)
© Katharine Tynan
Over and over again I dream a dream,
I am coming home to you in the starlit gloam;
Long was the day from you and sweet 'twill seem
The day is over and I am coming home.
The South Country
© Hilaire Belloc
When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind,
I light my lamp in the evening:
My work is left behind;
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind.
Thomas Chatterton
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
WITH Shakspeare's manhood at a boy's wild heart,
Through Hamlet's doubt to Shakspeare near allied,
Though Some Good Things Of Lower Worth
© Anna Laetitia Waring
The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance. Psalm 16:5.
Though some good things of lower worth
Stanzas Written In My Pocket Copy Of Thomsons "Castle Of Indolence"
© William Wordsworth
WITHIN our happy Castle there dwelt One
Whom without blame I may not overlook;
For never sun on living creature shone
Who more devout enjoyment with us took:
Us Poets II
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Wordsworth wrote some tawdry stuff;
Much of Moore I have forgotten;
Parts of Tennyson are guff;
Bits of Byron, too, are rotten.
The Shepherds Calendar - November
© John Clare
The landscape sleeps in mist from morn till noon;
And, if the sun looks through, 'tis with a face
Beamless and pale and round, as if the moon,
When done the journey of her nightly race,
The King's Missive
© John Greenleaf Whittier
UNDER the great hill sloping bare
To cove and meadow and Common lot,
Charades
© Charles Stuart Calverley
Spake John Grogblossom the coachman to Eliza Spinks the cook:
"Mrs. Spinks," says he, "I've foundered: 'Liza dear, I'm overtook.
Druv into a corner reglar, puzzled as a babe unborn;
Speak the word, my blessed 'Liza; speak, and John the coachman's yourn."
The Great Beech
© Norman Rowland Gale
With heart disposed to memory, let me stand
Near this monarch and this minstrel of the land,
Now that Dian leans so lovely from her car.
Illusively brought near by seeming falsely far,
In yon illustrious summit sways the tangled evening star.