Respect poems

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Incorrect Speaking

© Charles Lamb

Incorrectness in your speech
 Carefully avoid, my Anna;
Study well the sense of each
 Sentence, lest in any manner
It misrepresent the truth;
Veracity's the charm of youth.

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The Mathematician in Love

© William John Macquorn Rankine

  A mathematician fell madly in love
  With a lady, young, handsome, and charming:
  By angles and ratios harmonic he strove
  Her curves and proportions all faultless to prove.
  As he scrawled hieroglyphics alarming.

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The King Of Brentford’s Testament

© William Makepeace Thackeray

The noble King of Brentford
 Was old and very sick,
He summon'd his physicians
 To wait upon him quick;
They stepp'd into their coaches
 And brought their best physick.

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Discrimination

© Kenneth Rexroth

I don’t mind the human race. 

I’ve got pretty used to them 

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The Paleontologist’s Blind Date by Philip Memmer : American Life in Poetry #240 Ted Kooser, U.

© Ted Kooser

We haven’t shown you many poems in which the poet enters another person and speaks through him or her, but it is, of course, an effective and respected way of writing. Here Philip Memmer of Deansboro, N.Y., enters the persona of a young woman having an unpleasant experience with a blind date.

The Paleontologist’s Blind Date

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A Little Mistake

© Henry Lawson

The trooper said to the sergeant’s wife:
  ‘Sure, I wouldn’t seem unpleasant;
‘But there’s women and childer about the place,
  ‘And—barrin’ a lady’s present—

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Satire On A Conceited Playwright

© Charles Sackville



  Thou damn'd antipodes to common-sense,

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To Dr. Moore,

© Helen Maria Williams

IN ANSWER TO A POETICAL EPISTLE WRITTEN TO

ME BY HIM IN WALES, SEPTEMBER 1791.

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Metamorphoses: Book The Thirteenth

© Ovid

  The End of the Thirteenth Book.


 Translated into English verse under the direction of
 Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
 William Congreve and other eminent hands

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Hero And Leander. The Fifth Sestiad

© George Chapman

Now was bright Hero weary of the day,

  Thought an Olympiad in Leander's stay.

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The Repulse to Alcander

© Sarah Fyge

What is't you mean, that I am thus approach'd,

  Dare you to hope, that I may be debauch'd?

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Autumn Wealth

© Kristijonas Donelaitis

Of course, there is no lack of faithful Christians ,too.
Most of Lithuanians are men of good character;
They love their families, obey the will of God.
Each day live saintly lives, steer clear of all misdeeds,
And rule their modest homes with kind parental care.

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The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto First

© William Wordsworth

FROM Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array

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My Part

© Edgar Albert Guest

I may never be a hero, I am past the limit now,
There are pencil marks of silver Time has left upon my brow;
I shall win no service medals, I shall hear no cannons' roar,
I shall never fight a battle higher up than eagles soar,
But I hope my children's children may recall my name with pride
As a man who never whimpered when his soul was being tried.

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The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto III.

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

III A Paradox
  To tryst Love blindfold goes, for fear
  He should not see, and eyeless night
  He chooses still for breathing near
  Beauty, that lives but in the sight.

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Songs Set To Music: 4. Set By Mr. Smith

© Matthew Prior

Come, weep no more, for 'tis in vain;
Torment not thus your pretty heart;
Think, Flavia, we may meet again,
As well as that we now must part.

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The Avaricious

© Theocritus

I would be as great a toil to count
The waves upon the shore, when the wind
Drives them to land along the surface
Of the green sea, or to wash

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Book Ninth [Residence in France]

© William Wordsworth

EVEN as a river,--partly (it might seem)

Yielding to old remembrances, and swayed

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About My Very Tortured Friend, Peter

© Charles Bukowski


he walks away
thinking about
it.

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A Rhymed Lesson (Urania)

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

Are angel faces, silent and serene,
Bent on the conflicts of this little scene,
Whose dream-like efforts, whose unreal strife,
Are but the preludes to a larger life?