Work poems
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A Pre-Existence
© Madison Julius Cawein
An intimation of some previous life,
Or dark dream, in the present dim-divined,
Of some uncertain sleep--or lived or dreamed
In some dead life--between a dusk and dawn;
Boris Godunov
© Alexander Pushkin
Boyars, The People, Inspectors, Officers, Attendants, Guests,
a Boy in attendance on Prince Shuisky, a Catholic Priest, a
Polish Noble, a Poet, an Idiot, a Beggar, Gentlemen, Peasants,
Guards, Russian, Polish, and German Soldiers, a Russian
Prisoner of War, Boys, an old Woman, Ladies, Serving-women.
The Old Gentry
© Matthew Prior
That all from Adam first began,
None but ungodly Whiston doubts,
And that his son and his son's son
Were all but ploughmen, clowns, and louts.
Hilaire Belloc - The South Country
© Hilaire Belloc
When I am living in the Midlands
That are sodden and unkind,
I light my lamp in the evening:
My work is left behind;
And the great hills of the South Country
Come back into my mind.
Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine
© Hilaire Belloc
But since I would not, since I could not stay,
Let me remember even in this my day
How, when the ephemeral vision's lure is past
All, all, must face their Passion at the last
To Shakespeare (II)
© Frances Anne Kemble
Oft, when my lips I open to rehearse
Thy wondrous spells of wisdom and of power,
Worth Forest
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Come, Prudence, you have done enough to--day--
The worst is over, and some hours of play
We both have earned, even more than rest, from toil;
Our minds need laughter, as a spent lamp oil,
Billy Vickers
© Henry Kendall
Indeed, I'm forced to say aside,
To you, O reader, solely,
He only wants the horns and hide
To be a bullock wholly.
Meditation
© Mikhail Lermontov
With sadness I survey our present generation!
Their future seems so empty, dark, and cold,
The Heart and Service
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
The heart and service to you proffer'dWith right good will full honestly,Refuse it not, since it is offer'd,But take it to you gentlely.
The Mimic Harlequin
© Charles Lamb
"O fie, you naughty child, what have you done?
There never was so mischievous a son.
You've put the cat among my work, and torn
A fine laced cap that I but once have worn."
LXXXIV From: Cien sonetos de amor
© Pablo Neruda
One time more, my love, the net of light extinguishes
work, wheels, flames, boredoms and farewells,
and we surrender the swaying wheat to night,
the wheat that noon stole from earth and light.
Dreams Nascent
© David Herbert Lawrence
My world is a painted fresco, where coloured shapes
Of old, ineffectual lives linger blurred and warm;
An endless tapestry the past has women drapes
The halls of my life, compelling my soul to conform.
Advent Hymn
© Ada Cambridge
Another mile-a year
Pass'd by for ever! And the warnings swell
From upper heaven to darkest depths of hell,-
O we are drawing near!
Faringdon Hill. Book I
© Henry James Pye
What various objects scatter'd round us lie,
And charm on every side the curious eye!
Amidst such ample stores, how shall the Muse
Know where to turn her sight, and which to choose?
Study
© David Herbert Lawrence
Somewhere the long mellow note of the blackbird
Quickens the unclasping hands of hazel,
Somewhere the wind-flowers fling their heads back,
Stirred by an impetuous wind. Some waysll
All be sweet with white and blue violet.
(Hush now, hush. Where am I?Biuret)
Tortoise Gallantry
© David Herbert Lawrence
And so he strains beneath her housey wall,
And catches her trouser-legs in his beak
Suddenly, or her skinny limb,
And strange and grimly drags at her
Like a dog,
Only agelessly silent, with a reptile's awful persistency.
The Artist
© William Henry Ogilvie
He stands at no easel, he mixes no paint,
He colours no canvas to gladden the eye,
The Revolutionary
© David Herbert Lawrence
Look at them standing there in authority
The pale-faces,
As if it could have any effect any more.
