Work poems
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The Beach Comber
© Harry Kemp
I'd like to return to the world again,
To the dutiful, work-a-day world of men, -
Lines on the Opening of a Spring Campaign
© Amelia Opie
Spring! thy impatient bloom restrain!
Nor wake so soon thy genial power;
For deeds of death must hail thy reign,
And clouds of fate around thee lower:….
The Parish Register - Part II: Marriages
© George Crabbe
made.
Yet now, would Phoebe her consent afford,
Her slave alone, again he'd mount the board;
With her should years of growing love be spent,
And growing wealth;--she sigh'd and look'd consent.
Now, through the lane, up hill, and 'cross the
Prometheus Unbound
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
First Voice.
But never bowed our snowy crest
As at the voice of thine unrest.
The Working Monarch
© William Schwenck Gilbert
Rising early in the morning,
We proceed to light the fire,
Then our Majesty adorning
In its work-a-day attire,
We embark without delay
On the duties of the day.
Nearing Port
© Mary Hannay Foott
Now welcome, kindly welcome, who come to me for cheer!
My forts may frown on others, but ye have nought to fear.
The cannons flash and thunder are all for joy to-day,
No murmurs meet your coming,none wish to bar your way.
Huddersfield - The Second Poetry Capital Of England
© Barry Tebb
It brings to mind Swift leaving a fortune to Dublin
A Career
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
He lived a silent life alone,
And laid him down when it was done;
And at his head was placed a stone
On which was carved a name unknown!
Paradise Regain'd : Book II.
© John Milton
Meanwhile the new-baptized, who yet remained
At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen
Praise of the Fair Bridges, afterwards Lady Sandes, on Her Having a Scar in Her Forehead
© George Gascoigne
In court whoso demaundes
What dame doth most excell;
For my conceit I must needes say,
Faire Bridges beares the bel.
The Poets Of The Tomb
© Henry Lawson
The world has had enough of bards who wish that they were dead,
'Tis time the people passed a law to knock 'em on the head,
For 'twould be lovely if their friends could grant the rest they crave -
Those bards of `tears' and `vanished hopes', those poets of the grave.
They say that life's an awful thing, and full of care and gloom,
They talk of peace and restfulness connected with the tomb.
Enter Patient
© William Ernest Henley
The morning mists still haunt the stony street;
The northern summer air is shrill and cold;
An Address to the Steam Washing Company and Letter of Remonstrance from Bridget Jones to the Nobleme
© Thomas Hood
An Address to the Steam Washing Company
"For shamelet the linen alone!" M. W. of Windsor.
Mr. ScrubMr. Slopor whoever you be!
On the Building of Springfield
© Vachel Lindsay
Let not our town be large, remembering
That little Athens was the Muses' home,
That Oxford rules the heart of London still,
That Florence gave the Renaissance to Rome.
