Sports poems

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Bug o' Night

© Benson Mary Josephine

Ghost of Icarus, rise and seeThis boast of Old Mortality,Called "Bug-O'-Night" by men that rideIn winged, sharded, whirring pride.On fateful mission high intent--Invaders of the firmament.

The Pleasures of Imagination

© Mark Akenside

BOOK IOf Nature touches the consenting heartsOf mortal men; and what the pleasing storesWhich beauteous imitation thence derivesTo deck the poet's, or the painter's toil;My verse unfolds

Canada: Case History: 1945

© Earle Birney

This is the case of a high-school land,deadset in adolescence;loud treble laughs and sudden fists,bright cheeks, the gangling presence

Vaudracour And Julia

© William Wordsworth

O HAPPY time of youthful lovers (thus
My story may begin) O balmy time,
In which a love-knot on a lady's brow
Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven!

The Mermaid

© Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom

Leaving the sea, the pale moon lights the strand.
Tracing old runes, a youth inscribes the sand.
And by the rune-ring waits a woman fair,
Down to her feet extends her dripping hair.

Henry And Emma. A Poem.

© Matthew Prior

Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.

Portrait From The Infantry

© Alan Dugan

He smelled bad and was red-eyed with the miseries

of being scared while sleepless when he said

A Childs Smile

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

A CHILD'S smile--nothing more;
Quiet, and soft, and grave, and seldom seen;
Like summer lightning o'er,
Leaving the little face again serene.

Look Seaward, Sentinel!

© Alfred Austin

I
Look seaward, Sentinel, and tell the land
What you behold.

Rural Sports: A Georgic - Canto II.

© John Gay

Now, sporting muse, draw in the flowing reins,

Leave the clear streams a while for sunny plains.

Vicksburg.A Ballad

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

FOR sixty days and upwards,
A storm of shell and shot
Rained round us in a flaming shower,
But still we faltered not.

Were strangers two to two, and each unto the other three
I do not know the lady and I dont think she knows me.
Were strangers to each other here, and to the other two,
And they themselves are strangers yet, if all we hear is true.

The Truant Dove, From Pilpay

© Charlotte Turner Smith

A MOUNTAIN stream, its channel deep

Beneath a rock's rough base had torn;

Childish Recollections

'I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.'
WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains,
Chills the warm, tide which flows along the veins