Sports poems

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Country Glee

© Thomas Dekker

HAYMAKERS, rakers, reapers, and mowers,

Wait on your Summer-queen;

To what a cumbersome unwieldiness
And burdenous corpulence my love had grown,
But that I did, to make it less,
And keep it in proportion,
Give it a diet, made it feed upon
That which love worst endures, discretion

To a Child Blowing Bubbles

© Alaric Alexander Watts

Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
Ah! that once more I were a careless child! ~ COLERIDGE.

The Cock-Fighter's Garland

© William Cowper

Muse -- hide his name of whom I sing,
Lest his surviving house thou bring
For his sake into scorn,
Nor speak the school from which he drew,
The much or little that he knew,
Nor place where he was born.

Hymn Of The Children

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Thine are all the gifts, O God!
Thine the broken bread;
Let the naked feet be shod,
And the starving fed.

Stanzas Subjoined To The Yearly Bill Of Mortality Of The Parish Of All-Saints, Northampton. Anno Dom

© William Cowper

Could I, from Heaven inspired, as sure presage
To whom the rising year shall prove his last,
As I can number in my punctual page,
And item down the victims of the past;

Rural Sports: A Georgic - Canto I.

© John Gay

But when the sun displays his glorious beams,
And shallow rivers flow with silver streams,
Then the deceit the scaly breed survey,
Bask in the sun, and look into the day.
You now a more delusive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.

"The Undying One" - Canto II

© Caroline Norton

'Neath these, and many more than these, my arm
Hath wielded desperately the avenging steel--
And half exulting in the awful charm
Which hung upon my life--forgot to feel!

The Muscovy Duck

© Henry Lawson

THE ROOSTER is a brainless dude, although he sports a crest,

The hens an awful fool we know, though hen-eggs are the best;

The Four Seasons : Summer

© James Thomson

From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,

Kingsborough

© Henry Kendall

A waving of hats and of hands,

The voices of thousands in one,

Come, My Celia

© Benjamin Jonson

Come, my Celia, let us prove
While we may, the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever;
He at length our good will sever.

Song To Celia - I

© Benjamin Jonson

Come, my Celia, let us prove
While we may the sports of love;
Time will not be ours forever,
He at length our good will sever.

Gertrude of Wyoming

PART IOn Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!
Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall,
And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring,
Of what thy gentle people did befall;

The Task: Book II. -- The Time-Piece

In man or woman, but far most in man,
And most of all in man that ministers
And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn;
Object of my implacable disgust.