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The Stringy-Bark Tree
© Henry Lawson
And when sawn-timber homes were built out in the West,
Then for walls and for ceilings its wood was the best;
And for shingles and palings to last while men be,
There was nothing on earth like the stringy-bark tree.
The Rower's Chant
© Thomas Sturge Moore
ROW till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
Vision of Columbus Book 3
© Joel Barlow
Now, twice twelve years, the children of the skies
Beheld in peace their growing empire rise;
Ragnarok
© Kenneth Allott
Our Trojan world is polarised to mourn;
To dream and find a black spot on the sun,
And wake to love and find our lover gone.
Dream With Clam-Diggers
© Sylvia Plath
This dream budded bright with leaves around the edges,
Its clear air winnowed by angels; she was come
Back to her early sea-town home
Scathed, stained after tedious pilgrimages.
The Book-Worm
© Thomas Parnell
Bring Homer, Virgil, Tasso near,
To pile a sacred Altar here;
Hold, Boy, thy Hand out-run thy Wit,
You reach'd the Plays that D---s writ;
You reach'd me Ph---s rustick Strain;
Pray take your mortal Bards again.
Botany Bay Eclogues 04 - John, Samuel & Richard
© Robert Southey
'Tis a calm pleasant evening, the light fades away,
And the Sun going down has done watch for the day.
To my mind we live wonderous well when transported,
It is but to work and we must be supported.
Fill the cann, Dick! success here to Botany Bay!
The World In The House
© Jane Taylor
Regions of intellect ! serenely fair,
Hence let us rise, and breathe your purer air.
--There shine the stars ! one intellectual glance
At that bright host,--on yon sublime expanse,
Might prove a cure ;--well, say they, let them shine
With all our hearts,--but let us dress and dine.
Foreward
© Madison Julius Cawein
_And one, perchance, will read and sigh:
"What aimless songs! Why will he sing
Of nature that drags out her woe
Through wind and rain, and sun, and snow,
From miserable spring to spring?"
Then put me by._
The Gardener
© Roderic Quinn
WITHIN this garden space are set
Sweet mignonette and violet,
Sunk in rich mould; at dawn and night
Their leaves dew-wet.
To My First Love
© Hristo Botev
Put aside that song of love,
do not fill my heart with pain -
I'm young but I don't know of youth
and if I did I wouldn't claim
The Absent-Minded Beggar
© Rudyard Kipling
When you've shouted " Rule Britannia," when you've sung " God save the Queen,"
When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth,
The Shepheardes Calender: June
© Edmund Spenser
June: AEgloga Sexta. HOBBINOL & COLIN Cloute.
HOBBINOL.
LO! Collin, here the place, whose pleasaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring mynde.
"Sed Nos Qui Vivimus"
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How beautiful is life--the physical joy of sense and breathing;
The glory of the world which has found speech and speaks to us;
The robe which summer throws in June round the white bones of winter;
The new birth of each day, itself a life, a world, a sun!
I Met a Lady in the Wood
© Patrick Barrington
I met a lady in the wood.
No mortal maid, I knew, was she;
She was no thing of flesh and blood,
No child of human ancestry.
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book II - Swayamvara (The Bride's Choice)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
The mutual jealousies of the princes increased from day to day, and
when Yudhishthir, the eldest of all the princes and the eldest son of
the late Pandu, was recognised heir-apparent, the anger of Duryodhan
and his brothers knew no bounds. And they formed a dark scheme to
kill the sons of Pandu.
A Tear And A Smile
© Khalil Gibran
I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart
For the joys of the multitude.
And I would not have the tears that sadness makes
To flow from my every part turn into laughter.
Ruth
© William Wordsworth
WHEN Ruth was left half desolate,
Her Father took another Mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
Went wandering over dale and hill,
In thoughtless freedom, bold.
The Tunnel
© Hart Crane
Our tongues recant like beaten weather vanes.
This answer lives like verdigris, like hair
Beyond extinction, surcease of the bone;
And repetition freezesWhat
My Play Is Done
© Swami Vivekananda
Ever rising, ever falling with the waves of time, still rolling on I go
From fleeting scene to scene ephemeral, with life's currents' ebb and flow.
