Truth poems
/ page 115 of 257 /The Duel (The Gingham Dog And The Calico Cat)
© Eugene Field
The gingham dog and the calico cat
Side by side on the table sat;
A Business Deal
© George Ade
An ancient joker, grizzled and half-bald,
With the outward seeming and the attire
Canto 1: Narad
© Valmiki
To sainted Nárad, prince of those
Whose lore in words of wisdom flows.
Whose constant care and chief delight
Were Scripture and ascetic rite,
The Crystal Palace
© William Makepeace Thackeray
With ganial foire
Thransfuse me loyre,
Ye sacred nympths of Pindus,
The whoile I sing
That wondthrous thing,
The Palace made o' windows!
Pennsylvania Hall
© John Greenleaf Whittier
NOT with the splendors of the days of old,
The spoil of nations, and barbaric gold;
No weapons wrested from the fields of blood,
Where dark and stern the unyielding Roman stood,
Il Janitoro
© George Ade
Mrs. T.:
What does it mean, what does it mean?
This smell of smoke may indicate
That we'll be burned oh-h-h, awful fate!
The Australian Muse
© Leon Gellert
Uplift thy lyre, and touch the tender strings;
But leave unsung the epics of thy land
Losses
© Heinrich Heine
Youth is leaving me; but daily
By new courage it's replaced ;
And my bold arm circles gaily
Many a young and slender waist.
Enceladus
© Alfred Noyes
And hungered, yet no comrade of the wolf,
And cold, but with no power upon the sun,
A master of this world that mastered him!
The Cathedral Porch
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Towering, towering up to the noon--blaze,
Up to the hot blue, up to blinding gold,
Pillar and pinnacle, arch and corbel, scrolled,
Flowered and tendrilled, soar, aspire and raise
The Sunset
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
There late was One within whose subtle being,
As light and wind within some delicate cloud
That fades amid the blue noon's burning sky,
Genius and death contended. None may know
The Temple of Fame
© Alexander Pope
In that soft season, when descending show'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;
The Australian Bell-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
And 'Oyez, Oyez' following after me
On my great errand to the sundown went.
Lost, lost, and lost, whenas the cross road flee
Up tumbled hills, on each for eyes attent
A carriage creepeth.