Wish poems
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The Bachelor's Soliloquy
© Edgar Albert Guest
To wed, or not to wed; that is the question;Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe bills and house rent of a wedded fortune,Or to say "nit" when she proposes,And by declining cut her
The Blossing Of The Solitary Date-Tree
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of
Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. `What no one
with us shares, seems scarce our own.' The presence of a ONE,
The Captivity
© Oliver Goldsmith
FIRST PROPHET.
AIR.
Our God is all we boast below,
To him we turn our eyes;
And every added weight of woe
Shall make our homage rise.
A Misunderstanding
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Then I were a fool so to dream
So, friend, grant your pardon to me.
She I loved and I lost was not you,
But what I had wished you to be.
The Broadstone
© Robinson Jeffers
NEAR FINVOY, COUNTY ANTRIM
We climbed by the old quarries to the wide highland of heath,
Dream Song 82: Op. posth. no. 5
© John Berryman
Maskt as honours, insult like behaving
missiles homes. I bow, & grunt 'Thank you.
I'm glad you could come
so late.' All loves are gratified. I'm having
to screw a little thing I have to screw.
Good nature is over.
The Two Peacocks of Bedfont
© Thomas Hood
I
Alas! That breathing Vanity should go
Where Pride is buried,like its very ghost,
Uprisen from the naked bones below,
Voices Of The Night : Flowers
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Spake full well, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the Castle Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden
Stars, that in the earth's firmament do shine.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter VII - Pompilia
© Robert Browning
There,
Strength comes already with the utterance!
I will remember once more for his sake
The sorrow: for he lives and is belied.
Could he be here, how he would speak for me!
Dream Song 7: 'The Prisoner of Shark Island' with Paul Muni
© John Berryman
Henry is old, old; for Henry remembers
Mr Deeds' tuba, & the Cameo,
& the race in Ben Hur,âThe Lost World, with sound,
& The Man from Blankey's, which he did not dig,
nor did he understand one caption of,
bewildered Henry, while the Big Ones laughed.
Dream Song 49: Blind
© John Berryman
Old Pussy-cat if he won't eat, he don't
feel good into his tum', old Pussy-cat.
He wants to have eaten.
Tremor, heaves, he sweaterings. He can't.
A dizzy swims of where is Henry at;
. . . somewhere streng verboten.
Dream Song 130: When I saw my friend covered with blood, I thought
© John Berryman
When I saw my friend covered with blood, I thought
This is the end of the dream, now I'll wake up.
That was more years ago
than I care to reckon, and my friend is not
dying but adhering to an élite group
in California O.
Sonnet 96
© John Berryman
An instant there is, Sophoclean, true,
When Oedipus must understand: his head
When Oedipus believestilts like a wave,
And will not break, only iov iov
Wells from his dreadful mouth, the love he led:
Prolong to Procyon this. This begins my grave.
Dream Song 40: I'm scared a lonely. Never see my son
© John Berryman
I'm scared a lonely. Never see my son,
easy be not to see anyone,
combers out to sea
know they're goin somewhere but not me.
Got a little poison, got a little gun,
I'm scared a lonely.
Dream Song 11: His mother goes. The mother comes & goes.
© John Berryman
His mother goes. The mother comes & goes.
Chen Lung's too came, came and crampt & then
that dragoner's mother was gone.
It seem we don't have no good bed to lie on,
forever. While he drawing his first breath,
while skinning his knees,
Remords Posthume (Posthumous Remorse)
© Charles Baudelaire
Lorsque tu dormiras, ma belle ténébreuse,
Au fond d'un monument construit en marbre noir,
Et lorsque tu n'auras pour alcôve et manoir
Qu'un caveau pluvieux et qu'une fosse creuse;
Bruise blue
© Dale Harcombe
Frail as smoke, she drifts
through the crowded train,
bringing with her
the cold ashes of poverty.
The Ax-Helve
© Robert Frost
I've known ere now an interfering branch
Of alder catch my lifted ax behind me.
But that was in the woods, to hold my hand
From striking at another alder's roots,
The World
© John Newton
See, the world for youth prepares,
Harlot-like, her gaudy snares!
Pleasures round her seem to wait,
But 'tis all a painted cheat.
A Hundred Collars
© Robert Frost
Lancaster bore him--such a little town,
Such a great man. It doesn't see him often
Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead
And sends the children down there with their mother
