Work poems
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Hymn For The House Of Worship At Georgetown, Erected In Memory Of A Mother
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Thou dwellest not, O Lord of all
In temples which thy children raise;
Our work to thine is mean and small,
And brief to thy eternal days.
Weary Of The World, And With Heaven Most Dear
© Thomas Kingo
Farewell, world, farewell
As thrall here Im weary and no more will dwell,
Autumn Winds
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Oh! Autumn winds, what means this plaintive wailing
Around the quiet homestead where we dwell?
Mogg Megone - Part I.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Who stands on that cliff, like a figure of stone,
Unmoving and tall in the light of the sky,
The War Sonnets: III The Dead
© Rupert Brooke
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.
These laid the world away; poured out the red
Metamorphoses: Book The Eleventh
© Ovid
The End of the Eleventh Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
What A Sick Woman Does
© Edgar Albert Guest
ACONVALESCIN' woman does the strangest sort o' things,
An' it's wonderful the courage that a little new strength brings;
An Allegory On Man
© Thomas Parnell
A thoughfull Being, long and spare,
Our race of Mortals call him Care,
(Were Homer living well he knew
What Name the Gods woud call him too)
With fine Mechanick Genius wrought,
And lovd to work tho no one bought.
And Now In Accents Deep And Low
© Washington Allston
And now, in accents deep and low,
Like voice of fondly-cherish'd woe,
Brother Of All, With Generous Hand
© Walt Whitman
Brother of all, with generous hand,
Of thee, pondering on thee, as o'er thy tomb, I and my Soul,
A thought to launch in memory of thee,
A burial verse for thee.
The Bride Of The Nile - Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Belkís. I cannot do these sums
So long before the date. In the meanwhile talk to me.
I want to be amused. Life will go drearily
If we are to be like this. Let us play at something--chess,
Or draughts, or dominoes. Ask me a thing to guess--
An intellectual game.
In Summer
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies' soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
The Borough. Letter II: The Church
© George Crabbe
"WHAT is a Church?"--Let Truth and Reason speak,
They would reply, "The faithful, pure, and meek;
The Stockmen of Australia
© Anonymous
The stockmen of Australia, what rowdy boys are they,
They will curse and swear a hurricane if you come in their way.
They dash along the forest on black, bay, brown, or grey,
And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they.
The Games We Used To Play
© George Ade
I long and sigh for the days gone by,
I pine for the rustic charm
Of the dear old games, the queer old games
We played down on the farm.
To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys
© Henry King
It is, Sir, a confest intrusion here
That I before your labours do appear,
Which no loud Herald need, that may proclaim
Or seek acceptance, but the Authors fame.
Requiem
© Anna Akhmatova
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected -
I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
[1961]
