Work poems
/ page 103 of 355 /Adonis
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The gods did love Adonis, and for this
He died, ere time had furrowed his young cheek.
For Aphrodité slew him with a kiss.
He sighed one sigh, as though he fain would speak
The Human Touch
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Thanked God she made roses still for pretty ladies' wear,
Threepence for a dozen such, working to the night.
Dragged in to a hurried knot all her dusty hair
Eyes foolish with fatigue straining to the light.
Love Sonnets
© Charles Harpur
How beautiful doth the morning rise
Oer the hills, as from her bower a bride
Comes brightenedblushing with the shame-faced pride
Of love that now consummated supplies
In Hospital
© Boris Pasternak
They stood, almost blocking the pavement,
As though at a window display;
The stretcher was pushed in position,
The ambulance started away.
The Blind Girl Of Castel-Cuille. (From The Gascon of Jasmin)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
At the foot of the mountain height
Where is perched Castel Cuille,
When the apple, the plum, and the almond tree
In the plain below were growing white,
This is the song one might perceive
On a Wednesday morn of Saint Joseph's Eve:
The Black Hound
© Roderic Quinn
WHITE-TOOTHED is the Black Hound,
And ever, as he comes after,
There is no sweetness in wine,
Nor is there joyance in laughter.
The Death-Raven (From The Danish Of Oehlenslaeger)
© George Borrow
"The wealthy bird came towering,
Came scowering,
O'er hill and stream.
'Look here, look here, thou needy bird,
How gay my feathers gleam.'
The Anvil
© Rudyard Kipling
There shall be one people-it shall serve one Lord-
(Neither Priest nor Baron shall escape!)
It shall have one speech and law, soul and strength and sword.
England's being hammered, hammered, hammered into shape!
An Ode - In Imitation of Horace, Book III. Ode II.
© Matthew Prior
How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie
In the lethargic sleep, the sad repose
Poems Of Joys
© Walt Whitman
O to make the most jubilant poem!
Even to set off these, and merge with these, the carols of Death.
O full of music! full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments! full of grain and trees.
Beauty And Art
© Madison Julius Cawein
The gods are dead; but still for me
Lives on in wildwood brook and tree
Each myth, each old divinity.
I Want, I Want
© Sylvia Plath
Open-mouthed, the baby god
Immense, bald, though baby-headed,
Cried out for the mother's dug.
The dry volcanoes cracked and split,
The Bride Of The Nile - Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(Enter Barix and Boïlas conversing.)
Barix. I always said it, Boïlas, it must come at last,
The day of annexation. Things have moved on fast,
Faster than we quite thought a week or two ago.
The mills of Rome grind slowly--quite absurdly slow.
It comes to the same thing.
Written In The Beginning Of Mezeray's History Of France
© Matthew Prior
Whate'er thy countrymen have done
By law and wit, by sword and gun,
In thee is faithfully recited,
And all the living world that view
Thy work, give thee the praises due
At once instructed and delighted.
Alfred. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
He ceasedbut still the accents of his tongue
Persuasive, on the attentive hearers hung:
The monarch and his warlike thanes around
Still listening sat, in silent wonder bound.
London Types: Barmaid
© William Ernest Henley
Though, if you ask her name, she says "Elise,"
Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass,
An Horation Ode Upon Cromwell's Return From Ireland
© Andrew Marvell
The forward Youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the Shadows sing
His Numbers languishing.
Baby's Got A Tooth
© Edgar Albert Guest
The telephone rang in my office to-day,
as it often has tinkled before.
The Two Lovers Of Heaven: Chrysanthus And Daria - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Chrysanthus is seen seated near a writing table on which are several
books: he is reading a small volume with deep attention.