Poems begining by J
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Jubilate Agno (excerpt)
© Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
Jada
© Tupac Shakur
u r the omega of my heart
the foundation of my conception of love
when i think of what a black woman should be
its u that i first think of
June Evening at Beaconsfield (Bucks)
© Nicholls Marjory
Like a trail of smoke from the sunset's flameA long, frail wisp of cloud hung in the sky;The west still glowed--the colour, loth to die,Faded so slowly, and as slowly cameThe grey of twilight, long ere it could claimA conquest o'er the golden light on high,Which yielded, paling; lastly with a sighIt sank in grey enveloped--just as FameSinks and is covered by the years that creep
Jack Sprat
© Mother Goose
Jack SpratCould eat no fat,His wife could eat no lean;And so betwixt them both,They lick'd the platter clean.
Jack and Gill
© Mother Goose
Jack and GillWent up the hill,To fetch a pail of water;Jack fell downAnd broke his crown,And Gill came tumbling after.
Jesous Ahatonhia
© Middleton Jesse Edgar
'Twas in the moon of the winter time when all the birds had fledThat Mighty Gitshi Manitou sent angel-choirs instead
Jottings of New York: A Descriptive Poem
© William Topaz McGonagall
Oh mighty City of New York! you are wonderful to behold,Your buildings are magnificent, the truth be it told,They were the only thing that seemed to arrest my eye,Because many of them are thirteen storeys high
John Graydon
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
I own John Graydon's place--His elm trees moving with a lovely graceAs slow and stately as a minuet,His great lawns wearing shadows like black lace,Too lovely to forget
John-John
© MacDonagh Thomas
I dreamt last night of you, John-John, And thought you called to me;And when I woke this morning, John, Yourself I hoped to see;But I was all alone, John-John, Though still I heard your call:I put my boots and bonnet on, And took my Sunday shawl,And went, full sure to find you, John, To Nenagh fair
June
© Francis Ledwidge
Broom out the floor now, lay the fender by,And plant this bee-sucked bough of woodbine there,And let the window down
Jacobite 'Auld Lang Syne'
© Andrew Lang
Shall ancient freedom be forgot And the auld Stuart line?Shall ancient freedom be forgot And Auld Lang Syne?Though now we take King Louis' fee And drink King Louis' wine,We'll bring the King frae o'er the sea For Auld Lang Syne
Jim Bludso, of the Praire Belle
© John Hay
Wall, no! I can't tell whar he lives, Becase he don't live, you see;Leastways, he's got out of the habit Of livin' like you and me
Jealousy
© John Donne
Fond woman, which wouldst have thy husband die,And yet complain'st of his great jealousy;If, swollen with poison, he lay in his last bed,His body with a sere bark covered,Drawing his breath as thick and short as canThe nimblest crocheting musician,Ready with loathsome vomiting to spewHis soul out of one hell into a new,Made deaf with his poor kindred's howling cries,Begging with few feign'd tears great legacies,Thou wouldst not weep, but jolly, and frolic be,As a slave, which to-morrow should be free
Jacob
© Cary Phoebe
He dwelt among "apartments let," About five stories high;A man I thought that none would get, And very few would try.
