Work poems
/ page 188 of 355 /
Ring Ring The Banjo
© Stephen C. Foster
De time is nebber dreary if de darkey nebber groans;
De ladies nebber weary wid de rattle of de bones:
Den come again Susanna by de gaslight ob de moon;
We'll tum de old Piano when de banjo's out ob tune.
Silentium Amoris
© Oscar Wilde
. AS oftentimes the too resplendent sun
Hurries the pallid and reluctant moon
Back to her sombre cave, ere she hath won
A single ballad from the nightingale,
So doth thy Beauty make my lips to fail,
And all my sweetest singing out of tune.
Service
© Edgar Albert Guest
TO the cause one man gave gold,
Then withdrew into his den
From the battle line, and told
How he served his fellowmen.
To The Lady Dursley
© Matthew Prior
Here reading how fond Adam was betray'd,
And how by sin Eve's blasted charms decay'd,
Our common loss unjustly you complain,
So small that part of it which you sustain.
The Elements of San Joaquin
© Gary Soto
The wind sprays pale dirt into my mouth
The small, almost invisible scars
On my hands.
Look At All Those Monkeys!
© Spike Milligan
Look at all those monkeys
Jumping in their cage.
Why don't they all go out to work
And earn a decent wage?
At San Giovanni Del Lago
© Alfred Austin
I leaned upon the rustic bridge,
And watched the streamlet make
Its chattering way past zigzag ridge
Down to the silent lake.
A Bachelor-Bookworms Complaint Of The Late Presidential Election
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
A MAN of peace, I never dared to marry,
Lover of tranquil hours, I dwelt apart;
Outside the realm where noisy schemes miscarry;
My only handmaids, Science, Learning, Art;
Oh! home of pleasant thought, of calm affection,
All blasted now by this last vile election!
Baudelaire
© Delmore Schwartz
When I fall asleep, and even during sleep,
I hear, quite distinctly, voices speaking
Whole phrases, commonplace and trivial,
Having no relation to my affairs.
Calmly We Walk through This April’s Day
© Delmore Schwartz
Calmly we walk through this April’s day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
The Emigration to New Zealand
© Henry Lawson
Ive just received a letter from a chum in Maoriland,
Hes working down in Auckland where he days hes doing grand,
The climates cooler there, but hearts are warmer, says my chum,
He sends the passage money, and he says Id better come.
(Id like to see his face again, Id like to grip his hand),
He says hes sure that Ill get on first-rate in Maoriland.
The Sparrow Club
© William Barnes
Last night the merry farmers' sons,
Vrom biggest down to leäst, min,
An Incident Of The Fire At Hamburg
© James Russell Lowell
The tower of old Saint Nicholas soared upward to the skies,
Like some huge piece of Nature's make, the growth of centuries;
You could not deem its crowding spires a work of human art,
They seemed to struggle lightward from a sturdy living heart.
Vandergast and the Girl
© Louis Simpson
Vandergast to his neighbors—
the grinding of a garage door
and hiss of gravel in the driveway.
Close Of Our Summer At Frascati
© Frances Anne Kemble
The end is come: in thunder and wild rain
Autumn has stormed the golden house of Summer.
The Wound-Dresser
© Walt Whitman
But in silence, in dreams’ projections,
While the world of gain and appearance and mirth goes on,
So soon what is over forgotten, and waves wash the imprints off the sand,
With hinged knees returning I enter the doors, (while for you up there,
Whoever you are, follow without noise and be of strong heart.)
To the Lord General Cromwell
© Patrick Kavanagh
Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud,
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
