Pet poems
/ page 87 of 126 /The Three Kings of Chickeraboo
© William Schwenck Gilbert
There were three niggers of Chickeraboo -
PACIFICO, BANG-BANG, POPCHOP - who
Exclaimed, one terribly sultry day,
"Oh, let's be kings in a humble way."
The Things That Make A Soldier Great
© Edgar Albert Guest
The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,
To face the flaming cannon's mouth, nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:
'Tis these that make a soldier great. He's fighting for them all.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 05
© William Langland
The Kyng and hise knyghtes to the kirke wente
To here matyns of the day and the masse after.
Consolation
© Francois de Malherbe
Will then, Duperrier, thy sorrow be eternal?
And shall the sad discourse
Whispered within thy heart, by tenderness paternal,
Only augment its force?
Voyages VI
© Hart Crane
Where icy and bright dungeons lift
Of swimmers their lost morning eyes,
And ocean rivers, churning, shift
Green borders under stranger skies,
Colombine
© Francis Jammes
Frêle petite fille O rose dans la fange
Du cirque piétinée avant que de t'ouvrir
Dieu ne t'avait-il pas faite à l'image des anges
Et pour que le printemps parfumât tes soupirs.
The Haunted Garden
© Madison Julius Cawein
THERE a tattered marigold
And dead asters manifold,
Showed him where the garden old
Of time bloomed:
The Boy Mind
© Edgar Albert Guest
WISH I was only as bright as my boy,
Wish I could think of the things that he springs;
The Great Beech
© Norman Rowland Gale
With heart disposed to memory, let me stand
Near this monarch and this minstrel of the land,
Now that Dian leans so lovely from her car.
Illusively brought near by seeming falsely far,
In yon illustrious summit sways the tangled evening star.
Sonnet CI: The One Hope
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
When vain desire at last and vain regret
Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,
The Red And White Rose
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE Red Rose bowed one golden summer's night,
The Red Rose bent, low whispering to the White,
"Thou pallid shadow of a beauteous flower,
Unchanged from purpling dawn to sunset hour;
The Great Pig Story Of The Tweed.
© James Brunton Stephens
HANDS off, old man!" the young man cried
They stood beside the Tweed,
Sir Eustace Grey
© George Crabbe
And shall I then the fact deny?
I was--thou know'st--I was begone,
Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,
To whom the Watcher cried aloud;
That royal wretch of Babylon,
Who was so guilty and so proud.
The Viceroy. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
Of Nero, tyrant, petty king,
Who heretofore did reign
In famed Hibernia, I will sing,
And in a ditty plain.
From early dawn the thirtieth of April...
© Boris Pasternak
From early dawn the thirtieth of April
Is given up to children of the town,
And caught in trying on the festive necklace,
By dusk it only just is settling down.
De la rue on entend sa plaintive chanson
© François Coppée
De la rue on entend sa plaintive chanson.
Pâle et rousse, le teint plein de taches de son,
Elle coud, de profil, assise à sa fenêtre.
Très sage et sachant bien qu'elle est laide peut-être,
A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I HOLD a letter in my hand,-
A flattering letter, more's the pity,-
The Song Of The Violin
© Roderic Quinn
SHE stood in the curtains played over by light
The tinted curtains a tired, sweet girl,
With exquisite arms under laces of white
Like an ivory figure in mother-of-pearl.