Money poems
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Foolin' Wid De Seasons
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Seems lak folks is mighty curus
In de way dey t'inks an' ac's.
They are hostile nations
© Margaret Atwood
In view of the fading animals
the proliferation of sewers and fears
the sea clogging, the air
nearing extinction
from Fanny
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
Dear to the exile is his native land,
In memory’s twilight beauty seen afar:
Dear to the broker is a note of hand,
Collaterally secured—the polar star
Is dear at midnight to the sailor’s eyes,
And dear are Bristed’s volumes at “half price;”
Ring Ring The Banjo
© Stephen C. Foster
De time is nebber dreary if de darkey nebber groans;
De ladies nebber weary wid de rattle of de bones:
Den come again Susanna by de gaslight ob de moon;
We'll tum de old Piano when de banjo's out ob tune.
The Death of Allegory
© Billy Collins
I am wondering what became of all those tall abstractions
that used to pose, robed and statuesque, in paintings
and parade about on the pages of the Renaissance
displaying their capital letters like license plates.
Baudelaire
© Delmore Schwartz
When I fall asleep, and even during sleep,
I hear, quite distinctly, voices speaking
Whole phrases, commonplace and trivial,
Having no relation to my affairs.
The Emigration to New Zealand
© Henry Lawson
Ive just received a letter from a chum in Maoriland,
Hes working down in Auckland where he days hes doing grand,
The climates cooler there, but hearts are warmer, says my chum,
He sends the passage money, and he says Id better come.
(Id like to see his face again, Id like to grip his hand),
He says hes sure that Ill get on first-rate in Maoriland.
The Sparrow Club
© William Barnes
Last night the merry farmers' sons,
Vrom biggest down to leäst, min,
The Bursting of the Boom
© Henry Lawson
The captains easy-going when Fremantle comes in sight;
He cant say when youll get ashoreperhaps tomorrow night;
Your coins are few, the charges high; you must not linger here
Youll get your boxes from the hold when shes longside the pier.
The launch will foul the gangway, and the trembling bulwarks loom
Above a fleet of harbour craftat the Bursting of the Boom.
The Magic Shoes
© Charles Godfrey Leland
IT was stiller, dimmer twilight - amber toornin' into gold,
Like young maidens' hairs get yellow und more dark as dey crow old;
Und dere shtood a high ruine vhere de Donau rooshed along,
All lofely, yet neclected - like an oldt und silent song.
The Amenities
© Heather McHugh
I owe you an explanation.
My first memory isn’t your own
of an empty box. My babyhood cabinets held
a countlessness of cakes, my backyard
rotted into apple glut, windfalls of
money-tree, mouthfuls of fib.
Sir Peter Harpdon's End
© William Morris
John Curzon
Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.
Inviting a Friend to Supper
© Benjamin Jonson
Tonight, grave sir, both my poor house, and I
Do equally desire your company;
Hints to Cheese Makers
© James McIntyre
Grant has here a famous work
Devoted to the cause of pork.
For dairymen find that it doth pay
To fatten pigs upon the whey,
For there is money raising grease
As well as in the making cheese.
The Ronalds Of The Bennals
© Robert Burns
In Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men,
And proper young lasses and a', man;
But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,
They carry the gree frae them a', man.
