Humor poems
/ page 2 of 12 /The Mood O The Earth
© Madison Julius Cawein
My heart is high, is high, my dear,
And the warm wind sunnily blows;
My heart is high with a mood that's cheer,
And burns like a sun-blown rose.
Effigy Of A Nun
© Sara Teasdale
Infinite gentleness, infinite irony
Are in this face with fast-sealed eyes,
And round this mouth that learned in loneliness
How useless their wisdom is to the wise.
Face Lift
© Sylvia Plath
You bring me good news from the clinic,
Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white
Behram And Eddetma
© Madison Julius Cawein
Dazzled, six days he sat, a staring trance;
But on the seventh, casting stupor off,
Rose, and the straitness of the case that held
Him as with manacles of knitted fire,
Considered, and decided on a way....
Philiper Flash
© James Whitcomb Riley
Young Philiper Flash was a promising lad,
His intentions were good--but oh, how sad
Lines On The Death Of Sir William Russel
© William Cowper
Doomed, as I am, in solitude to waste
The present moments, and regret the past,
Abram Morrison
© John Greenleaf Whittier
'Midst the men and things which will
Haunt an old man's memory still,
Drollest, quaintest of them all,
With a boy's laugh I recall
Good old Abram Morrison.
A Fable For Critics
© James Russell Lowell
'Why, nothing of consequence, save this attack
On my friend there, behind, by some pitiful hack,
Who thinks every national author a poor one,
That isn't a copy of something that's foreign,
And assaults the American Dick--'
The Home-Going
© James Whitcomb Riley
We must get home--for we have been away
So long it seems forever and a day!
And O so very homesick we have grown,
The laughter of the world is like a moan
In our tired hearing, and its songs as vain,--
We must get home--we must get home again!
You Men
© Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
(Español)
Hombres necios que acusáis
a la mujer sin razón,
sin ver que sois la ocasión
de lo mismo que culpáis:
Hero And Leander. The Sixth Sestiad
© George Chapman
No longer could the Day nor Destinies
Delay the Night, who now did frowning rise
Sonnet XIII. To Mr. H. Lawes On His Aires
© John Milton
Harry whose tuneful and well measur'd Song
First taught our English Musick how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas Ears, committing short and long;
In Praise Of Johnny Applseed
© Vachel Lindsay
But he left their wigwams and their love.
By the hour of dawn he was proud and stark,
Kissed the Indian babes with a sigh,
Went forth to live on roots and bark,
Sleep in the trees, while the years howled by--
The Joke
© Charles Bukowski
then he leans back, thinks that I
have no sense of humor, have had a
bad day, or that he has overestimated my
intelligence.