Men poems
/ page 59 of 131 /
The Presence
© Jones Very
I sit within my room, and joy to find
That Thou who always lov'st, art with me here,
Eccentricity
© Washington Allston
Who next appears thus stalking by his side?
Why that is one who'd sooner die than-ride!
No inch of ground can maps unheard of show
Untrac'd by him, unknown to every toe:
As if intent this punning age to suit,
The globe's circumf'rence meas'ring by the foot.
The Wood Carver's Wife
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
JEAN MARCHANT, the wood-carver.
DORETTE, his wife.
LOUIS DE LOTBINIERE.
SHAGONAS, an Indian lad.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - V
© Ezra Pound
2
Yet you ask on what account I write so many love-lyrics
And whence this soft book comes into my mouth.
Neither Calliope nor Apollo sung these things into my ear,
My genius is no more than a girl.
Beranger's "To My Old Coat"
© Eugene Field
Still serve me in my age, I pray,
As in my youth, O faithful one;
The Palatine
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Leagues north, as fly the gull and auk,
Point Judith watches with eye of hawk;
Leagues south, thy beacon flames, Montauk!
Charms of Precedence - A Tale
© William Shenstone
"Sir, will you please to walk before?"-
"No, pray, Sir-you are next the door."-
The Belfry Of Bruges
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Keen comes the dizzy air
In one tumultuous breath.
The tower to heaven lies bare;
Dumb stir the streets beneath.
Rip Van Winkle. Canto I.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OLD Rip Van Winkle had a grandson, Rip,
Of the paternal block a genuine chip,âÂ
A lazy, sleepy, curious kind of chap;
He, like his grandsire, took a mighty nap,
Whereof the story I propose to tell
In two brief cantos, if you listen well.
The Borough. Letter III: The Vicar--The Curate
© George Crabbe
THE VICAR.
WHERE ends our chancel in a vaulted space,
Out Of Time
© Kenneth Slessor
Vilely, continuously, stupidly,
Time takes me, drills me, drives through bone and vein,
So water bends the seaweeds in the sea,
The tide goes over, but the weeds remain.
Pastoral
© Allen Tate
The enquiring fields, courtesies
And tribulations of the air-
Be still and give them peace:
O Muses, Accourez
© André Marie de Chénier
O muses, accourez; solitaires divines,
Amantes des ruisseaux, des grottes, des collines!
A Word To Philosophers
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
COLD philosophers, so apt
With your formulas exacting,
In your problems so enwrapt,
And your theories distracting;
Fanscomb Barn
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
In Fanscomb Barn (who knows not Fanscomb Barn?)
Seated between the sides of rising Hills,
In Amsterdam
© Christian Frederik Louis Leipoldt
As ek vanaand so moedersiel
Alleen hier by die vuurherd sit,
Dan borrel my geheue op,
En maak my hart en siel uit lid;
