Home poems

/ page 335 of 465 /

Order by :

1
. . .
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
. . .
465

From the Bush

© Henry Lawson

The Channel fog has lifted
And see where we have come!
Round all the world we've drifted,
A hundred years from "home".

In these days of peace and money, free to all the Commonweal,
There are ancient dames in Buckland wearing wedding rings of steel;
Wedding rings of steel and iron, worn on wrinkled hands and old,
And the wearers would not give them, not for youth nor wealth untold.

Book1 Prologue

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

But all who are not fishes are soon tired of water;
And they who lack daily bread find the day very long;
So the "Raw" comprehend not the state of the "Ripe;" 3
Therefore it behoves me to shorten my discourse.

The Ballad Of The Drover

© Henry Lawson

Across the stony ridges,
Across the rolling plain,
Young Harry Dale, the drover,
Comes riding home again.

The Teams

© Henry Lawson

A cloud of dust on the long white road,
And the teams go creeping on
Inch by inch with the weary load;
And by the power of the green-hide goad
The distant goal is won.

Out Back

© Henry Lawson

The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
The publican's words were short and few,
and the publican's looks were black --
And the time had come, as the shearer knew, to carry his swag Out Back.

The Roaring Days

© Henry Lawson

The night too quickly passes
And we are growing old,
So let us fill our glasses
And toast the Days of Gold;

Here Died

© Henry Lawson

There's many a schoolboy's bat and ball that are gathering dust at home,
For he hears a voice in the future call, and he trains for the war to come;
A serious light in his eyes is seen as he comes from the schoolhouse gate;
He keeps his kit and his rifle clean, and he sees that his back is straight.

Farewell to Folly

© Robert Greene

Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;

The quiet mind is richer than a crown;

Of The Wooing Of Halbiorn The Strong

© William Morris

A STORY FROM THE LAND-SETTLING BOOK OF ICELAND, CHAPTER XXX.

The Little Lives Of Earth And Form

© Philip Larkin

The little lives of earth and form,
Of finding food, and keeping warm,
Are not like ours, and yet
A kinship lingers nonetheless:
We hanker for the homeliness
Of den, and hole, and set.

Take One Home For The Kiddies

© Philip Larkin

On shallow straw, in shadeless glass,
Huddled by empty bowls, they sleep:
No dark, no dam, no earth, no grass -
Mam, get us one of them to keep.

A Story At Dusk

© Ada Cambridge

An evening all aglow with summer light

And autumn colour-fairest of the year.

Goldilocks And Goldilocks

© William Morris

It was Goldilocks woke up in the morn

At the first of the shearing of the corn.

The Importance Of Elsewhere

Lonely in Ireland, since it was not home,
Strangeness made sense. The salt rebuff of speech,
Insisting so on difference, made me welcome:
Once that was recognised, we were in touch

The Escape

Destiny drives a crooked plough
And sows a careless seed;
Now through a heart she cuts, and now
She helps a helpless need.

Homage To A Government

Next year we are to bring all the soldiers home
For lack of money, and it is all right.
Places they guarded, or kept orderly,
We want the money for ourselves at home
Instead of working. And this is all right.

Essential Beauty

In frames as large as rooms that face all ways
And block the ends of streets with giant loaves,
Screen graves with custard, cover slums with praise
Of motor-oil and cuts of salmon, shine