Work poems
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Ballads Of Four Seasons: Winter
© Li Po
The courier will depart next day, she's told.
She sews a warrior's gown all night.
Her fingers feel the needle cold.
How can she hold the scissors tight?
The Shell
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O little, whisp'ring, murm'ring shell, say cans't thou tell to me
Good news of any stately ship that sails upon the sea?
I press my ear, O little shell, against thy rosy lips;
Cans't tell me tales of those who go down to the sea in ships?
Margrave
© Robinson Jeffers
But who is our judge? It is likely the enormous
Beauty of the world requires for completion our ghostly increment,
It has to dream, and dream badly, a moment of its night.
Ode On A Nearer Prospect Of Summer Hill
© Richard Harris Barham
O Summer Hill! if thou wert mine,
I'd order in a pipe of wine,
Introduction: Pippa Passes
© Robert Browning
Now wait!-even I already seem to share
In God's love: what does New-year's hymn declare?
What other meaning do these verses bear?
Chapter 9 - The Seven Selves
© Khalil Gibran
In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years, with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
Sydney-Side
© Henry Lawson
Oh, there never dawned a morning, in the long and lonely days,
But I thought I saw the ferries streaming out across the bays
And as fresh and fair in fancy did the picture rise again
As the sunrise flushed the city from Woollahra to Balmain:
The Sensible Romance Of Mildred
© Edgar Albert Guest
MILDRED McGee was a beautiful blond,
As fair as peroxide could make her.
Dorchester Amphitheatre .
© John Kenyon
By Rome's old amphitheatre I stood,
Still pretty perfect, on the Weymouth road,
The Sylph Of Summer
© William Lisle Bowles
God said, Let there be light, and there was light!
At once the glorious sun, at his command,
Untimely Lost Oliver Madox Brown Born 1855; Died 1874
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
UPON the landscape of his coming life
A youth high-gifted gazed, and found it fair:
Compensation
© Jean Ingelow
One launched a ship, but she was wrecked at sea;
He built a bridge, but floods have borne it down;
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Third
© William Wordsworth
NOW joy for you who from the towers
Of Brancepeth look in doubt and fear,
Telling melancholy hours!
Proclaim it, let your Masters hear
Saint Monica
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AMONG deep woods is the dismantled scite
Of an old Abbey, where the chaunted rite,
To His Friend J. H.
© Alexander Brome
If thou canst fashion no excuse,
To stay at home, as 'tis thy use,
When I do send for thee,
Let neither sickness, way, nor rain,
With fond delusions thee detain,
But come thy way to me.
Why We Fight
© Edgar Albert Guest
This is the thing we fight:
A cry of terror in the night;
A ship on work of mercy bent
A carrier of the sick and maimed
Beneath the cruel waters sent,
And those that did it, unashamed.
To Sylvia
© Giacomo Leopardi
O Sylvia, dost thou remember still
That period of thy mortal life,
When beauty so bewildering
Shone in thy laughing, glancing eyes,
As thou, so merry, yet so wise,
Youth's threshold then wast entering?
The Marriage Of Geraint
© Alfred Tennyson
'Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;
Turn thy wild wheel through sunshine, storm, and cloud;
Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.
