Work poems

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Ode

© James Russell Lowell

I

In the old days of awe and keen-eyed wonder,

In Memoriam

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

Yet not of these I muse
In this ancestral place,
But of a kindred face
That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.

He has rowed to a wreck, when the lifeboat failed, with Jim in a crazy boat;
He has given his lifebelt many a time, and sunk that another might float.
He has stood em off while others escaped, when the niggers rushed from the hill,
And rescue parties who came too late have found what was left of Bill.

Pierrot

© Langston Hughes

I work all day,

Said Simple John,

Tinkerin' At Home

© Edgar Albert Guest

Some folks there be who seem to need excitement fast and furious,
An' reckon all the joys that have no thrill in 'em are spurious.
Some think that pleasure's only found down where the lights are shining,
An' where an orchestra's at work the while the folks are dining.
Still others seek it at their play, while some there are who roam,
But I am happiest when I am tinkerin' 'round the home.

The Duellist - Book II

© Charles Churchill

Deep in the bosom of a wood,

Out of the road, a Temple stood:

The Shepheardes Calender: December

© Edmund Spenser

I thee beseche (so be thou deigne to heare,
Rude ditties tund to shepheards Oaten reede,
Or if I euer sonet song so cleare,
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede)
Hearken awhile from thy greene cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.

The One I Think of Now by Wesley McNair: American Life in Poetry #100 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate

© Ted Kooser

Here the Maine poet, Wesley McNair, offers us a vivid description of a man who has lived beyond himself. I'd guess you won't easily forget this sad old man in his apron with his tray of cheese.

The One I Think of Now

Fine

© Edgar Albert Guest

Isn't it fine when the day is done,
And the petty battles are lost or won,
When the gold is made and the ink is dried,
To quit the struggle and turn aside
To spend an hour with your boy in play,
And let him race all of your cares away?

Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia

© Giacomo Leopardi

What doest thou in heaven, O moon?

Say, silent moon, what doest thou?

At Eventide

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Poor and inadequate the shadow-play

Of gain and loss, of waking and of dream,

Roman Elegies

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Then would the world be no world, then would e'en Rome be no Rome.
-----
Do not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender

Hemingway Never Did This

© Charles Bukowski

now I don't think this 3-pager was immortal
but there were some crazy wild lines,
now gone forever.
it bothers more than a touch, it's some-
thing like knocking over a good bottle of
wine.

To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato

Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,

And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:

The Immortality Of Rome

``Urbi et Orbi,''--mystic euphony,
What depth of Christian meaning lies in Thee!
How, from this world apart, this world above,
Selected by a special will of Love,

The Toll-Mans Daughter

Once more the June with her great moon

Poured harvest o'er the golden fields;

Off The Track.

OH where the deuce is the track, the track?

Round an' round, an' forrard, an' back!

The Lady of the Lake: Canto VI. - The Guardroom

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl,
That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack,
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack;
Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor,
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar!