Work poems
/ page 290 of 355 /
In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory
© William Butler Yeats
Now that we're almost settled in our house
I'll name the friends that cannot sup with us
Beside a fire of turf in th' ancient tower,
And having talked to some late hour
To Jeoffry His Cat
© Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily
On Archaeologists and Historians
© Sukasah Syahdan
Archaeologist and historians
should work together to reveal
what happened to Gajah Mada,
or Humpty Dumpty.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book I - Part 06 - Confutation Of Other Philosophers
© Lucretius
And on such grounds it is that those who held
The stuff of things is fire, and out of fire
To a Friend, on the Death of a Relative.
© Mather Byles
I.
Great GOD, thy Works our Wonder raise,
To thee our swelling Notes belong;
While Skies, and Winds, and Rocks, and Seas,
Around shall echo to our Song.
Far Away and Long Ago
© Sukasah Syahdan
The young man replied, Youre welcome, Maam, as much! He was no less happy.
Many years later they both grew old. It just happened that life had gone on and they had never met again. In fact, the two would have entirely forgotten the episodehad they not bought a book of poetry by an Indonesian poet and found this story.
Youth
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHY linger round the sunken wrecks
Where old Armadas found their graves?
Mister William
© William Schwenck Gilbert
OH, listen to the tale of MISTER WILLIAM, if you please,
Whom naughty, naughty judges sent away beyond the seas.
He forged a party's will, which caused anxiety and strife,
Resulting in his getting penal servitude for life.
Reticence
© Peter McArthur
WE may not babble unto alien ears
The truth revealed, nor show to heedless eyes
Address To The Dalziel Brothers
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
O WOODMAN, spare that block,
Oh gash not anyhow!
It took ten days by clock,
I'd fain protect it now.
ChorusWild Laughter from Dalziel's Workshop.
A Song From The Suds
© Louisa May Alcott
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,
And fasten the clothes to dry;
Then out in the free fresh air they swing,
Under the sunny sky.
A Translation Of The CIV. Psalm To The Original Sense
© Sir Henry Wotton
My soul exalt the Lord with Hymns of praise:
O Lord my God, how boundless is thy might?
Whose Throne of State is cloath'd with glorious rays,
And round about hast rob'd thy self with light.
Who like a curtain hast the Heavens display'd,
And in the watry Roofs thy Chambers laid.
Docker
© Seamus Justin Heaney
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
Keeping Going
© Seamus Justin Heaney
Piss at the gable, the dead will congregate.
But separately. The women after dark,
Hunkering there a moment before bedtime,
The only time the soul was let alone,
The only time that face and body calmed
In the eye of heaven.
Postscript
© Seamus Justin Heaney
And some time make the time to drive out west
Into County Clare, along the Flaggy Shore,
In September or October, when the wind
And the light are working off each other
