Mom poems
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13. SongBonie Peggy Alison
© Robert Burns
Chor.And Ill kiss thee yet, yet,
And Ill kiss thee oer again:
And Ill kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison.
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!
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!
Sleep Teases A Man
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Markov took off his boots and, with a deep breath, lay down on the divan.
He felt sleepy but, as soon as he closed his eyes, the desire for sleep immediately passed. Markov opened his eyes and stretched out his hand for a book. But sleep again came over him and, not even reaching the book, Markov lay down and once more closed his eyes. But, the moment his eyes closed, sleepiness left him again and his consciousness became so clear that Markov could solve in his head algebraical problems involving equations with two unknown quantities.
Markov was tormented for quite some time, not knowing what to do: should he sleep or should he liven himself up? Finally, exhausted and thoroughly sick of himself and his room, Markov put on his coat and hat, took his walking cane and went out on to the street. The fresh breeze calmed Makarov down, he became rather more at one with himself and felt like going back home to his room.
Upon going into his room, he experienced an agreeable bodily fatigue and felt like sleeping. But, as soon as he lay down on the divan and closed his eyes, his sleepiness instantly evaporated.
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,
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 09:
© Conrad Aiken
We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass . . .'
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass . . .'
4. SongIn the Character of a Ruined Farmer
© Robert Burns
THE SUN he is sunk in the west,
All creatures retir?d to rest,
While here I sit, all sore beset,
With sorrow, grief, and woe:
And its O, fickle Fortune, O!
The Ballad of the White Horse
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night-
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
It's A Queer Time
© Robert Graves
It's hard to know if you're alive or dead
When steel and fire go roaring through your head.
Historic Evening
© Arthur Rimbaud
On an evening, for example, when the naive tourist has retired
from our economic horrors, a master's hand awakens
Triad
© Robinson Jeffers
Science, that makes wheels turn, cities grow,
Moribund people live on, playthings increase,
The Nightingale : A Conversation Poem
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
No cloud, no relique of the sunken day
Distinguishes the West, no long thin slip
Of sullen light, no obscure trembling hues.
Come, we will rest on this old mossy bridge!
A Psychological Tip
© Piet Hein
Whenever you're called on to make up your mind,
and you're hampered by not having any,
144. A Winter Night
© Robert Burns
WHEN biting Boreas, fell and dour,
Sharp shivers thro the leafless bowr;
When Phoebus gies a short-livd glowr,
Far south the lift,
107. Versified Reply to an Invitation
© Robert Burns
SIR,Yours this moment I unseal,
And faith Im gay and hearty!
To tell the truth and shame the deil,
I am as fou as Bartie:
105. Despondency: An Ode
© Robert Burns
OPPRESSD with grief, oppressd with care,
A burden more than I can bear,
I set me down and sigh;
O life! thou art a galling load,
533. SongForlorn, my love, no comfort here
© Robert Burns
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.
A Remonstrance to the Poet Campbell, on Proposing to Take up His Permanent Residence in London
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Dear Poet of Hope! who hast charmed us so long
With thy strains of home-music, sweet, solemn, and strong;
310. Tam o Shanter: A Tale
© Robert Burns
This truth fand honest TAM O SHANTER,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:
(Auld Ayr, wham neer a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses).
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Acts I.-II.
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
