Work poems
/ page 192 of 355 /
The Unknown Eros. Book I.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Well dost thou, Love, thy solemn Feast to hold
In vestal February;
Not rather choosing out some rosy day
From the rich coronet of the coming May,
When all things meet to marry!
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Fifth
© William Lisle Bowles
Such are thy views, DISCOVERY! The great world
Rolls to thine eye revealed; to thee the Deep
Grandfather Bridgeman
© George Meredith
'Heigh, boys!' cried Grandfather Bridgeman, 'it's time before dinner to-day.'
He lifted the crumpled letter, and thumped a surprising 'Hurrah!'
Up jumped all the echoing young ones, but John, with the starch in his throat,
Said, 'Father, before we make noises, let's see the contents of the note.'
The old man glared at him harshly, and twinkling made answer: 'Too bad!
John Bridgeman, I'm always the whisky, and you are the water, my lad!'
Her my body
© Richard Jones
The dog licks my hand as I worry
about the left nipple
of the woman in the bathroom.
Three Women
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
The New Chinese Fiction
© James Tate
Although the depiction of living forms
was not explicitly forbidden, the only good news
The Author
© Charles Churchill
Accursed the man, whom Fate ordains, in spite,
And cruel parents teach, to read and write!
To the Poor
© Bliss William Carman
Child of distress, who meet’st the bitter scorn
Of fellow-men to happier prospects born,
Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 04 - Formation Of The World
© Lucretius
But in what modes that conflux of first-stuff
Did found the multitudinous universe
Last Post
© William Ernest Henley
THE day's high work is over and done,
And these no more will need the sun:
Sonnet XVIII. To The Autumnal Moon
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Mild Splendor of the various-vested Night!
Mother of wildly-working visions! hail!
I watch thy gliding, while with watery light
Thy weak eye glimmers through a fleecy veil;
(O you mad, you superbly drunk!...)
© Anselm Hollo
I have wasted my days and nights in the company of steady wise neighbors.
Much knowing has turned my hair grey, and much watching has made my sight dim.
For years I have gathered and heaped all scraps and fragments of things;
Crush them and dance upon them, and scatter them all to the winds!
For I know tis the height of wisdom to be drunken and go to the dogs.
Venus Verticordia (For a Picture)
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
SHE hath the apple in her hand for thee,
Yet almost in her heart would hold it back;
Lines Written In London
© Frances Anne Kemble
Struggle not with thy life!the heavy doom
Resist not, it will bow thee like a slave:
The Bungalows
© John Ashbery
Impatient as we were for all of them to join us,
The land had not yet risen into view: gulls had swept the gray steel towers away
So that it profited less to go searching, away over the humming earth
Than to stay in immediate relation to these other things—boxes, store parts, whatever you wanted to call them—
Whose installedness was the price of further revolutions, so you knew this combat was the last.
And still the relationship waxed, billowed like scenery on the breeze.
The Lepracaun Or Fairy Shoemaker
© William Allingham
Little Cowboy, what have you heard,
Up on the lonely rath's green mound?
Here And There: Or This World And The Next: Being Suitable Thoughts For A New Year
© Hannah More
Here bliss is short, imperfect, insincere,
But total, absolute, and perfect there.
