Life poems
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I've Got a Golden Ticket
© Roald Dahl
I never thought my life could be
Anything but catastrophe
But suddenly I begin to see
A bit of good luck for me
104. The Lament
© Robert Burns
O THOU pale orb that silent shines
While care-untroubled mortals sleep!
Thou seest a wretch who inly pines.
And wanders here to wail and weep!
392. SongPoortith cauld and restless love
© Robert Burns
O POORTITH cauld, and restless love,
Ye wrack my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a I could forgive,
An twere na for my Jeanie.
60. Epistle on J. Lapraik
© Robert Burns
But, to conclude my lang epistle,
As my auld pens worn to the gristle,
Twa lines frae you wad gar me fissle,
Who am, most fervent,
While I can either sing or whistle,
Your friend and servant.
95. Address to the Unco Guid
© Robert Burns
O YE wha are sae guid yoursel,
Sae pious and sae holy,
Yeve nought to do but mark and tell
Your neibours fauts and folly!
372. SongKellyburn Braes
© Robert Burns
THERE lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes,
Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi thyme;
And he had a wife was the plague of his days,
And the thyme it is witherd, and rue is in prime.
Poppy And Mandragora
© Madison Julius Cawein
Let us go far from here!
Here there is sadness in the early year:
488. SongThe Winter of Life
© Robert Burns
BUT lately seen in gladsome green,
The woods rejoicd the day,
Thro gentle showers, the laughing flowers
In double pride were gay:
From Faust - IV. Chorus Of Spirits
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Offspring of night!
Let a more radiant beam
Through the blue ether gleam,
111. Address to Beelzebub
© Robert Burns
LONG life, my Lord, an health be yours,
Unskaithed by hungerd Highland boors;
Lord grant me nae duddie, desperate beggar,
Wi dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger,
A Patriot
© Hristo Botev
A patriot be - for knowledge, freedom,
The soul's too small a price to pay!
Mind you, not his soul, my brothers,
The nation's soul he'll give away!
142. Epistle to Major Logan
© Robert Burns
Nae mair at present can I measure,
An trowth my rhymin wares nae treasure;
But when in Ayr, some half-hours leisure,
Bet light, bet dark,
Sir Bard will do himself the pleasure
To call at Park.ROBERT BURNS.Mossgiel, 30th October, 1786.
440. Address spoken by Miss Fontenelle
© Robert Burns
I could no moreaskance the creature eyeing,
Dye think, said I, this face was made for crying?
Ill laugh, thats poznay more, the world shall know it;
And so, your servant! gloomy Master Poet!
The Father
© Muriel Stuart
The evening found us whom the day had fled,
Once more in bitter anger, you and I,
299. SketchNew Years Day, 1790
© Robert Burns
THIS day, Time winds th exhausted chain;
To run the twelvemonths length again:
I see, the old bald-pated fellow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
A Poem Beginning With A Line From Pindar
© Robert Duncan
But the eyes in Goyas painting are soft,
diffuse with rapture absorb the flame.
Their bodies yield out of strength.
Waves of visual pleasure
wrap them in a sorrow previous to their impatience.
136. PrayerO Thou Dread Power
© Robert Burns
O THOU dread Power, who reignst above,
I know thou wilt me hear,
When for this scene of peace and love,
I make this prayer sincere.
The Dance Of Death
© Henry Austin Dobson
He is the despots' Despot. All must bide,
Later or soon, the message of his might;
The Miracle Of Padre Junipero
© Francis Bret Harte
This is the tale that the Chronicle
Tells of the wonderful miracle
Wrought by the pious Padre Serro,
The very reverend Junipero.
118. A Bards Epitaph
© Robert Burns
Reader, attend! whether thy soul
Soars fancys flights beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole,
In low pursuit:
Know, prudent, cautious, self-control
Is wisdoms root.
