Work poems
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Quatrains Of Life
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?
Arise, O Gardener
© Ghulam Ahmad Mahjoor
Arise, O Gardener! And usher in the glory of a new spring.
Create conditions for 'bulbuls' (a type of bird) to
Hover over full-blown roses.
Breitmann In Turkey
© Charles Godfrey Leland
DERR BREITMANN hear im Turkenreich
Vas fighten high und low,
"Steh auf, oh Schwackenhammer mein!
It's dime for us to go.
On Receiving A Curious Shell
© John Keats
Hast thou from the caves of Golconda, a gem
Pure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain?
Bright as the humming-bird's green diadem,
When it flutters in sun-beams that shine through a fountain?
Two Pictures
© Anonymous
One was a child of beauty rare
With a cherub face and golden hair;
The lovely look whose radiant eyes
Filled the soul with thoughts of Paradise.
Sonnet IV
© Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
Peace is happiness, but war is our plight
Under the heavens. He - prince of the night,
Severe captain- and the World's vanity
Work for our corruption diligently.
The Joy Of The Hills
© Edwin Markham
I ride on the hills, I forgive, I forget
Life's hoard of regret—
All the terror and pain
Of the chafing chain.
Grind on, O cities, grind;
I leave you a blur behind.
It Happens In The B.R. Families
© Franklin Pierce Adams
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Newport lie
That I roused from sleep in a huddled heap
An elderly wealthy guy.
The Hares, A Fable.
© James Beattie
Mild was the morn, the sky serene,
The jolly hunting band convene,
The beagle's breast with ardour burns,
The bounding steed the champaign spurns,
And Fancy oft the game descries
Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.
Indolence
© Robert Fuller Murray
Fain would I shake thee off, but weak am I
Thy strong solicitations to withstand.
Plenty of work lies ready to my hand,
Which rests irresolute, and lets it lie.
Don Juan: Canto The Fifth
© George Gordon Byron
When amatory poets sing their loves
In liquid lines mellifluously bland,
The Gypsy
© Edward Thomas
A fortnight before Christmas Gypsies were everywhere:
Vans were drawn up on wastes, women trailed to the fair.
Work
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
WHAT are we set on earth for ? Say, to toil;
Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines
A Meditation
© Herman Melville
How often in the years that close,
When truce had stilled the sieging gun,
The soldiers, mounting on their works,
With mutual curious glance have run
From face to face along the fronting show,
And kinsman spied, or friend--even in a foe.
A Pocket Handkerchief To Hem
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
A pocket handkerchief to hem -
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!
Two Hundred Years Ago
© William Henry Drummond
But He watch dem, le bon Dieu, for He's got
some work to do,
An He won't trus' ev'ry body, no siree!
Only full blood Canadien, lak Marquette an'
Hennepin,
An' w'at you t'ink of Louis Verandrye?
A Parson's Letter To A Young Poet
© Jean Ingelow
They said: "We, rich by him, are rich by more;
One Aeschylus found watchfires on a hill
That lit Old Night's three daughters to their work;
When the forlorn Fate leaned to their red light
And sat a-spinning, to her feet he came
And marked her till she span off all her thread.
