Life poems
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A Poet's Home
© Charles Harpur
HERE in this lonely rill-engirdled spot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot,
With one vowed to me with beloved lips
How sweet to draw, as hiddenly from time,
As from its rocks yon shaded fountain slips,
My yet remaining prime.
The Loss of the Victoria
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! Now o'er Britannia there hangs a gloom,
Because over 400 British Tars have met with a watery tomb;
Who served aboard the " Victoria," the biggest ship in the navy,
And one of the finest battleships that ever sailed the sea.
Within The Gate
© John Greenleaf Whittier
L. M. C.
We sat together, last May-day, and talked
Of the dear friends who walked
Beside us, sharers of the hopes and fears
Of five and forty years,
When The Young Are Grown
© Edgar Albert Guest
Once the house was lovely, but it's lonely here to-day,
For time has come an' stained its walls an' called the young away;
The Kessack Ferry-Boat Fatality
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas on Friday the 2nd of March, in the year of 1894,
That the Storm Fiend did loudly laugh and roar
Along the Black Isle and the Kessack Ferry shore,
Whereby six men were drowned, which their friends will deplore.
A Modern Courtship
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Why turn from me thus with such petulant pride,
When I ask thee, sweet Edith, to be my bride;
When I offer the gift of heart fond and true,
And with loyalty seek thy young love to woo?
With patience Ive waited from week unto week,
And at length I must openly, candidly speak.
The Irish Convict's Return
© William Topaz McGonagall
Ye mountains and glens of Old Ireland,
I've returned home to ye again;
During my absence from ye
My heart always felt great pain.
Sonnet XXXVI: When We Met First
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When we met first and loved, I did not build
Upon the event with marble. Could it mean
The Inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay
© William Topaz McGonagall
Beautiful Hill o' Balgay,
With your green frees and flowers fair,
'Tis health for the old and young
For to be walking there,
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ON READING THE MEMOIRS OF M. D'ARTAGNAN
Why was I born in this degenerate age?
Or rather why, a thousand times, with soul
Of such degenerate stuff that a mute rage
The Kerrigan Boys
© Edward Harrington
By jove its hot on the track today, my flannel is soaked with sweat.
I think Ill sit in the shade a bit and wait for the sun to set.
I know of a decent camping place by the river beyond the town,
And Id rather carry my swag through there after the sun goes down.
The Disastrous Fire at Scarborough
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 8th of June,
A mother and six children met with a cruel doom
In one of the most fearful fires for some years past
And as the spectators gazed upon them they stood aghast
The Dead To The Living
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O you that still have rain and sun,
Kisses of children and of wife
And the good earth to tread upon,
And the mere sweetness that is life,
The Demon Drink
© William Topaz McGonagall
Oh, thou demon Drink, thou fell destroyer;
Thou curse of society, and its greatest annoyer.
What hast thou done to society, let me think?
I answer thou hast caused the most of ills, thou demon Drink.
The Death of the Queen
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! our noble and generous Queen Victoria is dead,
And I hope her soul to Heaven has fled,
To sing and rejoice with saints above,
Where ah is joy, peace, and love.
Thought's Austerity.
© Robert Crawford
Alas! in this bare life thought is austere,
And only when the dream-clouds cover us
And we breathe phantasy's sweet airs, we take
Contentment, though 'tis visionary, on,
And find some miracle of beauty still
To charm us from the savour of ourselves.
The Death of Prince Leopold
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! noble Prince Leopold, he is dead!
Who often has his lustre shed:
Especially by singing for the benefit of Esher School,
Which proves he was a wise prince. and no conceited fool.
The Death of Lord and Lady Dalhousie
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! Lord and Lady Dalhousie are dead, and buried at last,
Which causes many people to feel a little downcast;
And both lie side by side in one grave,
But I hope God in His goodness their souls will save.
The Death of Fred Marsden, the American Playwright
© William Topaz McGonagall
A pathetic tragedy I will relate,
Concerning poor Fred. Marsden's fate,
Who suffocated himself by the fumes of gas,
On the 18th of May, and in the year of 1888, alas!
