Work poems
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New Hampshire
© Robert Frost
Just specimens is all New Hampshire has,
One each of everything as in a showcase,
Which naturally she doesn't care to sell.
A Servant to Servants
© Robert Frost
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
The Mountains of Mourne
© William Percy French
Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf XIX. -- King Olaf's War-
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"Strike the sails!" King Olaf said;
"Never shall men of mine take flight;
Never away from battle I fled,
Never away from my foes!
Let God dispose
Of my life in the fight!"
The Wold Vok Dead
© William Barnes
My days, wi' wold vo'k all but gone,
An' childern now a-comèn on,
Songs of the Voices of Birds: A Poet in his Youth, and the Cuckoo-Bird
© Jean Ingelow
“O, I hear thee in the blue;
Would that I might wing it too!
O to have what hope hath seen!
O to be what might have been!
Work and Play
© Ted Hughes
The swallow of summer, she toils all the summer,
A blue-dark knot of glittering voltage,
Found Out
© Edgar Albert Guest
NEVER again," said Mrs. Green, as she swayed in her rocking chair,
"Never again will I think one house big enough for two to share;
Never again will I go away with another family,
I've had a month of that game this year, and once is enough for me.
The Tuft of Flowers
© Robert Frost
I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Before I came to view the leveled scene.
Folk Singer's Blues
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Well, I'd like to sing a song about the chain gang
And swingin' twelve pound hammers all the day,
And how a I'd like to kill my captain
And how a black man works his life away, but...
Provide, Provide
© Robert Frost
The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag,
Was once the beauty Abishag,
If I Were Santa Claus
© Edgar Albert Guest
IF only I were Santa Claus I 'd travel east and west
To every hovel where there lies a little child at rest;
The Death of the Hired Man
© Robert Frost
Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
To Count Carlo Pepoli
© Giacomo Leopardi
This wearisome and this distressing sleep
That we call life, O how dost thou support,
The Borough. Letter XXII: Peter Grimes
© George Crabbe
Now lived the youth in freedom, but debarr'd
From constant pleasure, and he thought it hard;
Hard that he could not every wish obey,
But must awhile relinquish ale and play;
Hard! that he could not to his cards attend,
But must acquire the money he would spend.
A Girl's Garden
© Robert Frost
A NEIGHBOR of mine in the village
Likes to tell how one spring
When she was a girl on the farm, she did
A childlike thing.
Hay-Carren
© William Barnes
'Tis merry ov a zummer's day,
When vo'k be out a-haulèn hay,
Where boughs, a-spread upon the ground,
Do meäke the staddle big an' round;
Putting in the Seed
© Robert Frost
You come to fetch me from my work to-night
When supper's on the table, and we'll see
If I can leave off burying the white
Soft petals fallen from the apple tree
Two Tramps In Mud Time
© Robert Frost
And all their logic would fill my head:
As that I had no right to play
With what was another man's work for gain.
My right might be love but theirs was need.
And where the two exist in twain
Theirs was the better right--agreed.
