Jingle Bells poems
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How To Not Settle It
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I LIKE, at times, to hear the steeples' chimes
With sober thoughts impressively that mingle;
But sometimes, too, I rather like--don't you?--
To hear the music of the sleigh bells' jingle.
The Light of the Sun
© Kabir
THE light of the sun, the moon, and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love's detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabîr says
"My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky."
Aurora Leigh: Book Seventh
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I broke on Marian there. "Yet she herself,
A wife, I think, had scandals of her own,-
A lover not her husband."
The Overlander
© William Henry Ogilvie
I knew them on the road : red, roan, and white,
Cock-horned and spear-horned, spotted, streaked and starred;
I knew their shapes moon-misted in the night
As I rode round them keeping lonely guard.
I knew them all, the laggards and the leaders,
The wild, the wandering, and the listless feeders.
The Ghetto
© Lola Ridge
Cool, inaccessible air
Is floating in velvety blackness shot with steel-blue lights,
But no breath stirs the heat
Leaning its ponderous bulk upon the Ghetto
And most on Hester street…
The Modest Jazz-Bird
© Vachel Lindsay
The Jazz-bird sings a barnyard song
A cock-a-doodle bray,
A jingle-bells, a boiler works,
A he-man's roundelay.
English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
© George Gordon Byron
These are the themes that claim our plaudits now;
These are the bards to whom the muse must bow;
While Milton, Dryden, Pope, alike forgot,
Resign their hallow'd bays to Walter Scott.
Winter Song
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
OH, who would be sad tho' the sky be a-graying,
And meadow and woodlands are empty and bare;
The Spilling Of The Wine
© Lola Ridge
The night has a rare savor.
Out of the snow-pilesaltar-high and colored as by a
rosy sacrifice Scented vapor
Ascends in a pale incense . . .
Faint astringent perfume
Of blood and wine.
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 03 - Pre Autumn
© Kalidasa
"On the departure of rainy season bechanced is autumn with a heart-pleasingly bloomed lotus as her face, betokening the heart-pleasing face of a new bride, and the autumnal fields of white grass with whitish flowers as her apparel, which betoken the whitish bridal apparel of a new bride, and the amorously clucking clucks of swans that have just returned from Lake Maanasa as rains have gone, are the jingling anklets of autumn, which betoken the delightful jingles of anklets of new bride, and now the rice is ready to ripe and thus the tenuous stalks of rice, which have their necks a little bent down, betoken the obeisant face of a new docile bride…
"Blanched is the earth with whitish grass and the nights with silvery and coolant moonbeams of the moon, and the rivers with white swans, lakes with white-lotuses, and that forest up to its fringes with whitish jasmine flowers and with somewhat whitish seven-leaved banana plants that are swagging under the weight of their flowers…
Mr. Hosea Biglow To The Editor Of The Atlantic Monthly
© James Russell Lowell
DEAR SIR,--Your letter come to han'
Requestin' me to please be funny;
The North Sea -- First Cycle
© Heinrich Heine
Once through heaven went shining,
Wedded and one,
Luna the Goddess, and Sol the God,
And the stars in multitudes thronged around them,
Their little, innocent children.
A Dream Of Long Ago
© James Whitcomb Riley
Lying listless in the mosses
Underneath a tree that tosses
The Little Bells Of Sevilla
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The ladies of Sevilla go forth to take the air,
They loop their lace mantillas, a red rose in their hair;
Upon the road Delicias* their little horses run,
And tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, the bells go every one.
The Everlasting Mercy
© John Masefield
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys cleer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
John Lydgate.
Moonlight
© John Kenyon
Not alway from the lessons of the schools,
Taught evermore by those who trust them not,
Madge Linsey, Or The Three Souls
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Then by Madge Linsey's side knelt he a little while,
"So of our wilful sins pay we the toll.
Even as she were I, had I but followed her.
But the Lord succoured me saving my soul."
The Wizard in the Street
© Vachel Lindsay
I love him in this blatant, well-fed place.
Of all the faces, his the only face
Beautiful, tho' painted for the stage,
Lit up with song, then torn with cold, small rage,
Shames that are living, loves and hopes long dead,
Consuming pride, and hunger, real, for bread.
The Overland Mail
© Rudyard Kipling
With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in,
He turns to the foot-path that heads up the hill --
The bags on his back and a cloth round his chin,
And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post Office bill:
"Despatched on this date, as received by the rail,
Per runnger, two bags of the Overland Mail."
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