Work poems
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The God-Forgotten Election
© Henry Lawson
PAT MDURMER brought the tidings to the town of God-Forgotten :
There are lively days before yecommin Parlymints dissolved!
The Voyage of Telegonus
© Henry Kendall
Ill fares it with the man whose lips are set
To bitter themes and words that spite the gods;
The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Pennsylvania Pilgrim
Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day
From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away,
Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay
A Snowy Night
© William Barnes
'Twer at night, an' a keen win' did blow
Vrom the east under peäle-twinklèn stars,
A Sicilian Idyll
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 01 - part 07
© Torquato Tasso
LXXXVI
"I see," quoth he, "some expectation vain,
John Pegram
© William Gordon McCabe
What shall we say now of our knight,
Or how express the measure of our woe
For him who rode the foremost in the fight,
Whose good blade flashed so far amid the foe?
The Ballad of the Rousabout
© Henry Lawson
Some take the track for faith in mensome take the track for doubt
Some flee a squalid home to work their own salvation out.
Some dared not see a mothers tears nor meet a fathers face
Born of good Christian families some leap, head-long, from Grace.
War
© John Le Gay Brereton
Silence the crackle and thunder of battling guns,
And drive your men to strategy of peace;
Crush ere its birth the hell-begotten crime;
Still theres a war that no true warrior shuns,
That knows no mercy, looks for no surcease,
But ghastlier battles, victories more sublime.
Smyrna
© John Newton
The message first to Smyrna sent,
A message full of grace;
To all the Saviour's flock is meant,
In every age and place.
On An Apple-Ripe September Morning
© Patrick Kavanagh
On an apple-ripe September morning
Through the mist-chill fields I went
With a pitch-fork on my shoulder
Less for use than for devilment.
Hymn For The Celebration At The Laying Of The Cornerstone Of Harvard Memorial Hall, Cambridge, Octob
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
NOT with the anguish of hearts that are breaking
Come we as mourners to weep for our dead;
Grief in our breasts has grown weary of aching,
Green is the turf where our tears we have shed.
The Old Books
© Vernon Scannell
They were beautiful, the old books, beautiful I tell you.
You've no idea, you young ones with all those machines;
Thomas Norton To The Reder
© Thomas Norton
Wee may wyte, if wee wyll, by holy writ
The lore of the lorde, that ledeth to lyfe:
The Spellin'-Bee
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I NEVER shall furgit that night when father hitched up Dobbin,
An' all us youngsters clambered in an' down the road went bobbin'
The Wrongs Of Africa, A Poem. Part The First
© William Roscoe
OFFSPRING of love divine, Humanity!
To who, his eldest born, th'Eternal gave
A Fair Melody: To Be Sung By Good Christians
© Hans Sachs
Awake, my heart's delight, awake
Thou Christian host, and hear
