Work poems
/ page 146 of 355 /The Temple of Fame
© Alexander Pope
In that soft season, when descending show'rs
Call forth the greens, and wake the rising flow'rs;
To The Memory Of Hood
© James Russell Lowell
Another star 'neath Time's horizon dropped,
To gleam o'er unknown lands and seas;
Another heart that beat for freedom stopped,--
What mournful words are these!
The Australian Bell-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
And 'Oyez, Oyez' following after me
On my great errand to the sundown went.
Lost, lost, and lost, whenas the cross road flee
Up tumbled hills, on each for eyes attent
A carriage creepeth.
The Pine Forest Of The Cascine Near Pisa
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
We wandered to the Pine Forest
That skirts the Ocean's foam,
The lightest wind was in its nest,
The tempest in its home.
Charms of Precedence - A Tale
© William Shenstone
"Sir, will you please to walk before?"-
"No, pray, Sir-you are next the door."-
The Discontented Manicure Scissors
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Said the manicure scissors one day,
"The shears always have their own way,
And I think it absurd
That I am deterred
From entering into life's fray.
Upon Seeing A Raffle For Addison's Works Unfill'd
© Mary Barber
Ye gentle Beaux, and thoughtless Belles,
Who gaily rove at Tunbridge--Wells,
In Remembrance Of Joseph Sturge
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In the fair land o'erwatched by Ischia's mountains,
Across the charmed bay
Whose blue waves keep with Capri's silver fountains
Perpetual holiday,
'Snapdragon' a Riddle for a Flower Book
© John Henry Newman
I am rooted in the wall
Of buttress'd tower or ancient hall;
Prison'd in an art-wrought bed.
Cased in mortar, cramp'd with lead;
Of a living stock alone
Brother of the lifeless stone.
Rip Van Winkle. Canto I.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
OLD Rip Van Winkle had a grandson, Rip,
Of the paternal block a genuine chip,âÂ
A lazy, sleepy, curious kind of chap;
He, like his grandsire, took a mighty nap,
Whereof the story I propose to tell
In two brief cantos, if you listen well.
The Borough. Letter III: The Vicar--The Curate
© George Crabbe
THE VICAR.
WHERE ends our chancel in a vaulted space,
Fireflies
© Rabindranath Tagore
My fancies are fireflies,
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.
A Story Of Doom: Book VII.
© Jean Ingelow
But Noah was seen, for he stood up erect,
And leaned on Japhet's hand. Then, after pause,
The Leader said, "My brethren, it were well
(For naught we fear) to let this sorcerer speak."
And they did reach toward the man their staves,
And cry with loud accord, "Hail, sorcerer, hail!"
"When I am articled"
© Lesbia Harford
When I am articled
The Law decrees
I shall devote my time
To stating fees
The Grey Monk (excerpts)
© William Blake
"I die, I die!" the Mother said,
"My children die for lack of bread.
What more has the merciless Tyrant said?"
The Monk sat down on the stony bed.