Women poems

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I.
If It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed serai,
Does not the Young Man try Its temper and pace ere he buy?
If She be pleasant to look on, what does the Young Man say?
"Lo! She is pleasant to look on, give Her to me to-day!"

The Letter L

© Jean Ingelow

We sat on grassy slopes that meet
With sudden dip the level strand;
The trees hung overhead—our feet
Were on the sand.

Bridge-Guard in the Karroo

© Rudyard Kipling

1901 ". . . and will supply details to guard the Blood River Bridge." District Orders-Lines of Communication, South African War.
Sudden the desert changes,
The raw glare softens and clings,
Till the aching Oudtshoorn ranges
Stand up like the thrones of Kings --

"Birds of Prey" March

© Rudyard Kipling

March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies.
Front! -- eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip.
Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses
Ain't the kind o' things to take aboard the ship.

The Ballad of the King's Jest

© Rudyard Kipling

When spring-time flushes the desert grass,
Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass.
Lean are the camels but fat the frails,
Light are the purses but heavy the bales,

Sestina Of The Tramp-Royal

© Rudyard Kipling

Speakin' in general, I'ave tried 'em all
The 'appy roads that take you o'er the world.
Speakin' in general, I'ave found them good
For such as cannot use one bed too long,
But must get 'ence, the same as I'ave done,
An' go observin' matters till they die.

Largo E Mesto

© William Ernest Henley

Out of the poisonous East,

Over a continent of blight,

The Charm.

© Robert Crawford

O touch her with thy heavenly beams,
Bright Moon! that she may know
Within his paradise of dreams
Love died not long ago.

Woolworth's

© Mark Hillringhouse

for Greg FallonA kid yells "Mother Fucker" out the school bus window.
I don't think anyone notices the afternoon clouds turning pink along the horizon,
sunlight dripping down the stone facades,
the ancient names of old stores fading like the last century

Stupra II

© Arthur Rimbaud

Our buttocks are not theirs.
I have often seen people unbuttoned behind some hedge;
and, in those shameless bathings where children are gay,
I used to observe the form and performance of our arse.

Ode To Walt Whitman

© Stephen Vincent Benet

"Let me taste all, my flesh and my fat are sweet,
My body hardy as lilac, the strong flower.
I have tasted the calamus; I can taste the nightbane."

The Wizard Way

© Aleister Crowley

He had crucified a toad
In the basilisk abode,
Muttering the Runes averse
Mad with many a mocking curse.

The Rhyme of the Three Greybeards

© Henry Lawson

He'd been for years in Sydney "a-acting of the goat",
His name was Joseph Swallow, "the Great Australian Pote",
In spite of all the stories and sketches that he wrote.

The Old Familiar Faces

© Charles Lamb

I have had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days-
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

Elegy

Here rests beneath this hospitable spot
A youth to flats and flatties not unknown.
The Plymouth Brethren gave it to him hot;
Trinity, Cambridge, claimed him for her own.

Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 07 - Beginnings Of Civilization

© Lucretius

Afterwards,
When huts they had procured and pelts and fire,
And when the woman, joined unto the man,
Withdrew with him into one dwelling place,

Prayer

SHE would not keep at home, the foolish woman,
She would not mind her precious girls and boys,
She had to go, for it was Sunday morning,
Down the hot road and to the barren pew
And there abuse her superannuate knees
To make a prayer.