Poems begining by L
/ page 94 of 128 /Limerick: The was a Young Lady of Bute
© Edward Lear
The was a Young Lady of Bute,
Who played on a silver-gilt flute;
She played several jigs,
To her uncle's white pigs,
That amusing Young Lady of Bute.
Life and Art
© Emma Lazarus
Not while the fever of the blood is strong,
The heart throbs loud, the eyes are veiled, no less
Look You, I'll Go Pray
© Vachel Lindsay
Look you, I'll go pray,
My shame is crying,
My soul is gray and faint,
My faith is dying.
Limerick: There was Old Man in a pew
© Edward Lear
There was Old Man in a pew,
Whose waistcoat was spotted with blue;
But he tore it in pieces
To give to his nieces,
That cheerful Old Man in a pew.
Lincoln
© Vachel Lindsay
Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all,
That which is gendered in the wilderness
From lonely prairies and God's tenderness.
Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream,
Love's Mesmerism.
© Robert Crawford
When you are with me I put by the world
In having you. When I can hear and see you,
All else is dark and dumb; or is it, Sweet,
You then are all, and I the dreamer know
Limerick: There was an Old Man who said, 'Hush!
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Man who said, 'Hush!
I perceive a young bird in this bush!'
When they said, 'Is it small?'
He replied, 'Not at all!
It is four times as big as the bush!'
Love and Law
© Vachel Lindsay
TRUE Love is founded in rocks of Remembrance
In stones of Forbearance and mortar of pain.
The workman lays wearily granite on granite,
And bleeds for his castle, 'mid sunshine and rain.