Work poems
/ page 106 of 355 /Anhelli - Chapter 8
© Juliusz Slowacki
And they came to a subterranean lake,
and proceeded along the shores of the dark water,
which stirred not, but was golden in places from the light of torches.
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd
© Walt Whitman
When lilacs last in the door-yard bloomd,
And the great star early droopd in the western sky in the night,
I mourndand yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
The Bas Bleu: Or, Conversation. Addressed To Mrs. Vesey
© Hannah More
VESEY, of Verse the judge and friend,
Awhile my idle strain attend:
Summer Toils
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
"Of course, it is not nice for a gray-headed man,
To be shamed by the work of a young nincompoop,
When he intends to get more dollars for his pay,
And e'en is not ashamed to pry out more seed grain.
O what became of the bewhiskered Prussian days,
When hired help was so cheep and so obedient?
Cadenus And Vanessa
© Jonathan Swift
THE shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian Queen.
The counsel for the fair began
Accusing the false creature, man.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter XI - Guido
© Robert Browning
YOU ARE the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichitwo good Tuscan names:
The Men Who Made Australia
© Henry Lawson
There'll be royal times in Sydney for the Cuff and Collar Push,
Therell be lots of dreary drivel and clap-trap
Accolon Of Gaul: Part III
© Madison Julius Cawein
The eve now came; and shadows cowled the way
Like somber palmers, who have kneeled to pray
The Bush Fire
© Henry Lawson
Ah, better the thud of the deadly gun, and the crash of the bursting shell,
Than the terrible silence where drought is fought out there in the western hell;
And better the rattle of rifles near, or the thunder on deck at sea,
Than the soundmost hellish of all to hearof a fire where it should not be.
On The Purple And White Carnation
© Caroline Norton
She spoke, and wept; and the echo again
Repeated the curse, but all in vain--
The tyrant laughed as he fluttered away,
Spreading his rainbow wings to the day,
And settling at random his feathered darts
To spoil sweet flowers, or break fond hearts.
Ryton Firs
© Lascelles Abercrombie
All round the knoll, on days of quietest air,
Secrets are being told; and if the trees
Speak out let them make uproar loud as drums
'Tis secrets still, shouted instead of whisper'd.
The Calls [unfinished]
© Wilfred Owen
A dismal fog-hoarse siren howls at dawn.
I watch the man it calls for, pushed and drawn
Backwards and forwards, helpless as a pawn.
But I'm lazy, and his work's crazy.
Sonnet Of Motherhood XLV
© Zora Bernice May Cross
Kiss me. Kiss her. The miracle is wrought
The simple beauty out of simple love
Mother and father, child and Godall One
Eternal trinity for ever sought.
O, blessed from her quiet place above,
Your mother kisses usa lifes work done.
Poulain The Prisoner
© Augusta Davies Webster
One single ray: and where its light could fall
His rusty nail carved saints and angels there,
And warriors, and slim girls with braided hair,
And blossomy boughs, and birds athwart the air.
Rude work, but yet a world. And light for all
Was one slant ray upon a prison wall.
A Divine Pastorall
© Thomas Parnell
I know I cannot speak his mercy's through,
Yet what I can, of what I ought Ile do,
Mean as they are, my notes to him belong,
Mean as it is, he will reward my song.
Go on, my Muse go on, & gratefully express
The Creatures thanks, in the Creators praise.
Don Juan: Canto The Fourteenth
© George Gordon Byron
If from great nature's or our own abyss
Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
James McCosh
© Robert Seymour Bridges
The laws of nature that he loved to trace
Have worked, at last, to veil from us his face;
The dear old elms and ivy-covered walls
Will miss his presence, and the stately halls
His trumpet voice. And in their joys
Sorrow will shadow those he called my boys!