Sports poems

 / page 8 of 24 /
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Recollections

© Giacomo Leopardi

Ye dear stars of the Bear, I did not think

  I should again be turning, as I used,

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The Vote (excerpt)

© Abraham Cowley

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . 

This only grant me :  that my means may lie

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Clearance Sale

© Arthur Rimbaud

For what the Jews have not sold,
what neither nobility nor crime have tasted,
what is unknown to monstrous love
and to the infernal probity of the masses!

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A Hunting Song

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord,
If his heart be true, I care not what his pocket may afford;
And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,
If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly, too.

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Jump-To-Glory Jane

© George Meredith

A revelation came on Jane,
The widow of a labouring swain:
And first her body trembled sharp,
Then all the woman was a harp
With winds along the strings; she heard,
Though there was neither tone nor word.

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Rhymed Plea For Tolerance - Prefatory Dialogue

© John Kenyon

  Ye, thus who write in spite of critic law,
  How had their satire kept your freaks in awe!
  And, to sole sway controlling her pretence,
  Bound Fancy down to compromise with Sense!

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Halloween

© Robert Burns

Upon that night, when fairies light


On Cassilis Downans dance,

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Admetus: To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson

© Emma Lazarus

He who could beard the lion in his lair,

To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,

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The Morning Visit

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

The morning visit,--not till sickness falls
In the charmed circles of your own safe walls;
Till fever's throb and pain's relentless rack
Stretch you all helpless on your aching back;
Not till you play the patient in your turn,
The morning visit's mystery shall you learn.

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Peggy

© Robert Burns

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like a melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

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You Gote-herd Gods

© Sir Philip Sidney

  You Gote-herd Gods, that loue the grassie mountaines,
  You Nimphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies,
  You Satyrs ioyde with free and quiet forests,
  Vouchsafe your silent eares to playning musique,
  Which to my woes giues still an early morning;
  And drawes the dolor on till wery euening.

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Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.

© George Gordon Byron

I.

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;

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Fitz Adam's Story

© James Russell Lowell

The next whose fortune 'twas a tale to tell

Was one whom men, before they thought, loved well,

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Good Tidings; Or News From The Farm

© Robert Bloomfield

Where's the Blind Child, so admirably fair,

With guileless dimples, and with flaxen hair

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Salmacis And Hermaphroditus

© Ovid

HOW Salmacis with weak enfeebling streams

Softens the body, and unnerves the limbs,

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Laodamia

© William Wordsworth

  O terror! what hath she perceived?-O joy!
  What doth she look on?-whom doth she behold?
  Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy?
  His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
  It is-if sense deceive her not-'tis He!
  And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!

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Prejudice

© Jane Taylor

  It is not worth our while, but if it were,
We all could undertake to laugh at her ;
Since vulgar prejudice, the lowest kind,
Of course, has full possession of her mind ;
Here, therefore, let us leave her, and inquire
Wherein it differs as it rises higher.

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Father And Son

© Edgar Albert Guest

Be more than his dad,

Be a chum to the lad;

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From A School Anthology

© Joseph Brodsky

1. E. Larionova

E. Larionova. Brunette. A colonel's