Life poems
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The Logical Vegetarian
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
You will find me drinking rum,
Like a sailor in a slum,
You will find me drinking beer like a Bavarian
You will find me drinking gin
In the lowest kind of inn
Because I am a rigid Vegetarian.
Author's Apology For His Book
© John Bunyan
WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand
Thus for to write, I did not understand
Under The Skin Of Men
© Edgar Albert Guest
Did you ever sit down and talk with men
In a serious sort of a way,
Carmina Festiva
© Henry Van Dyke
THE LITTLE-NECK CLAM
A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted to the requirements of different magazines, thus combining Art-for-Art's-Sake with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the First Dinner of the American Periodical Publishers' Association, in Washington, April, 1904.
Sonnet XLIV. Veiled Memories.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
OF love that was, of friendship in the days
Of youth long gone, yet oft remembered still,
And seen like distant landscapes from a hill,
Clothed in a garment of aërial haze,
The Babies of Walloon
© Henry Lawson
He was lengthsman on the railway, and his station scarce deserved
That pre-eminence in sorrow of the Majesty he served,
But as dear to him and precious were the gifts reclaimed so soon
Were the workmans little daughters who were buried near Walloon.
The Hen's Complaint
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
With drooping wings and nodding head,
These are the clucked-out words she said:
A Rainy Day in Camp
© Anonymous
Tis a cheerless, lonesome evening
When the soaking, sodden ground
Will not echo to the footfall
of the sentinel's dull round.
Arizona Poems: Mexican Quarter
© John Gould Fletcher
By an alley lined with tumble-down shacks,
And street-lamps askew, half-sputtering,
Of The Nature Of Things: Book IV - Part 04 - Some Vital Functions
© Lucretius
In these affairs
We crave that thou wilt passionately flee
The Anarchist.
© Arthur Henry Adams
THE dawn hangs heavy on the distant hill,
The darkness shudders slowly into light;
And from the weary bosom of the night
The pent winds sigh, then sink with horror still.
Sonnet XXIV: Let the World's Sharpness
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Let the world's sharpness like a clasping knife
Shut in upon itself and do no harm
Tamar
© Robinson Jeffers
Grass grows where the flame flowered;
A hollowed lawn strewn with a few black stones
And the brick of broken chimneys; all about there
The old trees, some of them scarred with fire, endure the sea
wind.
Love's Phases
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Love hath the wings of the butterfly,
Oh, clasp him but gently,
Pausing and dipping and fluttering by
Inconsequently.
Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh;
Love hath the wings of the butterfly.
A Prayer For The King's Majesty
© Edith Nesbit
God, by our memories of his Mother's face,
By the love that makes our heart her dwelling-place,
Grant to our sorrow this desired grace:
God save the King!
To ----
© Sidney Lanier
The Day was dying; his breath
Wavered away in a hectic gleam;
And I said, if Life's a dream, and Death
And Love and all are dreams - I'll dream.
Faith by Judy Loest : American Life in Poetry #216 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Judy Loest lives in Knoxville and, like many fine Appalachian writers, her poems have a welcoming conversational style, rooted in that region's storytelling tradition. How gracefully she sweeps us into the landscape and the scene!
Faith
Leaves drift from the cemetery oaks onto late grass,
