Respect poems
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The Mirror for Magistrates: The Induction
© Thomas Sackville
The wrathful winter, 'proaching on apace,With blustering blasts had all ybar'd the treen,And old Saturnus, with his frosty face,With chilling cold had pierc'd the tender green;The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped been The gladsome groves that now lay overthrown, The tapets torn, and every bloom down blown
Flight into Reality
© Rowley Rosemarie
Dedicated to the memory of my best friend Georgina, (1942-74)and to her husband Alex Burns and their childrenNulles laides amours ne belles prison -Lord Herbert of Cherbury
The Palace-Burner
© Piatt Sarah Morgan Bryan
She has been burning palaces. ."To see The sparks look pretty in the wind?." Well, yes .-And something more. But women brave as she Leave much for cowards such as I to guess.
Bleinheim, a Poem
© Philips John
From low and abject themes the grov'ling museNow mounts aërial, to sing of armsTriumphant, and emblaze the martial actsOf Britain's hero; may the verse not sinkBeneath his merits, but detain a whileThy ear, O Harley, (though thy country's wealDepends on thee, though mighty Anne requiresThy hourly counsels) since with ev'ry artThy self adorn'd, the mean essays of youthThou wilt not damp, but guide, wherever found,The willing genius to the muses' seat:Therefore thee first, and last, the muse shall sing
A Satire, in Imitation of the Third of Juvenal
© John Oldham
Though much concern'd to leave my dear old friend,I must however his design commendOf fixing in the country: for were IAs free to choose my residence, as he;The Peak, the Fens, the Hundreds, or Land's End,I would prefer to Fleet Street, or the Strand
Paradise Regain'd: Book IV (1671)
© John Milton
PErplex'd and troubl'd at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope,So oft, and the perswasive RhetoricThat sleek't his tongue, and won so much on Eve,So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve,This far his over-match, who self deceiv'dAnd rash, before-hand had no better weigh'dThe strength he was to cope with, or his own:But as a man who had been matchless heldIn cunning, over-reach't where least he thought,To salve his credit, and for very spightStill will be tempting him who foyls him still,And never cease, though to his shame the more;Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time,About the wine-press where sweet moust is powr'd,Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;Or surging waves against a solid rock,Though all to shivers dash't, the assault renew,Vain battry, and in froth or bubbles end;So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet ever; and to shameful silence brought,Yet gives not o're though desperate of success,And his vain importunity pursues
Romeo and Juliet
© Marquis Donald Robert Perry
Pop Montague's old brain was wried Through all its convolutionsWith constant thoughts of Homicide And kindred institutions.
Tone
© L'Abbé Sonnet
is an important aspectof any class text. Askyour professor if you maysay no way! to object, orhey! to interject, in any essaymeant to earn respect.
Why do I feel guilty in the lingerie department at The Bay
© Holbrook Susan
After all, I'm a woman, I'm old enough to look casual in here, I'm in my prime, in fact: why not try on a few things, discuss sizes and wires with the clerk like it's nothing, a bit of a chore even, like shopping for sneakers
Modryb Marya -- Aunt Mary
© Robert Stephen Hawker
In old and simple-hearted Cornwall, the household names "Uncle" and "Aunt" were uttered and used as they are to this day in many countries of the East, not only as phrases of kindred, but as words of kindly greeting and tender respect
Flying Deeper into the Century
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
Flying deeper into the centuryis exhilarating, the faces of loved ones eaten outslowly, the panhandles of flesh warding offthe air, the smiling plots
America
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
The Tropic of Capricorn someone hadleft on the seat beside me, somewhere betweenUtica and Albany;
La Mort de l'aigle
© Alfred de Vigny
Sur la neige des monts, couronne des hameaux,L'Espagnol a blessé l'aigle des Asturies,Dont le vol menaçait ses blanches bergeries;Hérissé, l'oiseau part et fait pleuvoir le sang,Monte aussi vite au ciel que l'éclair en descend,Regarde son Soleil, d'un bec ouvert l'aspire,Croit reprendre la vie au flamboyant empire;Dans un fluide d'or il nage puissamment,Et parmi les rayons se balance un moment:Mais l'homme l'a frappé d'une atteinte trop sûre;Il sent le plomb chasseur fondre dans sa blessure;Son aile se dépouille, et son royal manteauVole comme un duvet qu'arrache le couteau
Killed
© Crosland Thomas William Hodgson
Lieutenant Keen was "great," and yetHe would look over the parapet;And something smacked him in the head,And he lay down as dead as dead.
Watercolour for Negro Expatriates in France
© Clarke George Elliott
What are calendars to you?And, indeed, what are atlases? Time is cool jazz in Bretagne,you, hidden in berets or eccentric scarves,somewhere over the rainbow
G3. Social Scientist
© Christakos Margaret
A / central paradox of our society istape, find the part and play it.
Ode la Jeune Captive
© André Marie de Chénier
"L'épi naissant mûrit de la faux respecté;Sans crainte du pressoir, le pampre tout l'été Boit les doux présents de l'aurore;Et moi, comme lui belle, et jeune comme lui,Quoi que l'heure présente ait de trouble et d'ennui, Je ne veux point mourir encore
