Work poems
/ page 3 of 355 /Satires of Circumstance in Fifteen Glimpses VIII: In the St
© Thomas Hardy
He enters, and mute on the edge of a chair
Sits a thin-faced lady, a stranger there,
Ode to W. H. Channing
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honied thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.
Dickinson Poems by Number
© Emily Dickinson
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There's only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
An A.b.c
© Geoffrey Chaucer
AN A.B.C.
Here begins the song according to the order of the
letters of the alphabet
32. Song-Green Grow the Rashes
© Robert Burns
Chor.—Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e’er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O.
The Man Who Invented the Turn Signal
© Zieroth David Dale
The man who invented the turn signalwalks out the factory gatessomewhere in the westknowing he's done a serviceto the world hitting the roadby telling the car behind
208. Song-To the Weaver’s gin ye go
© Robert Burns
MY heart was ance as blithe and free
As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
Has gart me change my sang.
The Lark and Her Young Ones with the Owner of a Field
© Wright Elizur
"Depend upon yourself alone," Has to a common proverb grown
Three Years She Grew
© William Wordsworth
Three years she grew in sun and shower,Then Nature said, "A lovelier flowerOn earth was never sown;This Child I to myself will take;She shall be mine, and I will makeA Lady of my own.
The Prelude: Book 2: School-time (Continued)
© William Wordsworth
Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving muchUnvisited, endeavour'd to retraceMy life through its first years, and measured backThe way I travell'd when I first beganTo love the woods and fields; the passion yetWas in its birth, sustain'd, as might befal,By nourishment that came unsought, for still,From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dA round of tumult: duly were our gamesProlong'd in summer till the day-light fail'd;No chair remain'd before the doors, the benchAnd threshold steps were empty; fast asleepThe Labourer, and the old Man who had sate,A later lingerer, yet the revelryContinued, and the loud uproar: at last,When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudsWere edged with twinkling stars, to bed we went,With weary joints, and with a beating mind
The Prelude: Book 1: Childhood and School-time
© William Wordsworth
--Was it for thisThat one, the fairest of all Rivers, lov'dTo blend his murmurs with my Nurse's song,And from his alder shades and rocky falls,And from his fords and shallows, sent a voiceThat flow'd along my dreams? For this, didst Thou,O Derwent! travelling over the green PlainsNear my 'sweet Birthplace', didst thou, beauteous StreamMake ceaseless music through the night and dayWhich with its steady cadence, temperingOur human waywardness, compos'd my thoughtsTo more than infant softness, giving me,Among the fretful dwellings of mankind,A knowledge, a dim earnest, of the calmThat Nature breathes among the hills and groves
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
© William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
Influence of Natural Objects in Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination in Boyhood and Early Youth
© William Wordsworth
Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!And giv'st to forms and images a breathAnd everlasting motion! not in vain,By day or star-light, thus from my first dawnOf childhood didst thou intertwine for meThe passions that build up our human soul;Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man;But with high objects, with enduring things,With life and nature; purifying thusThe elements of feeling and of thought,And sanctifying by such disciplineBoth pain and fear,--until we recogniseA grandeur in the beatings of the heart
The French Revolution as It Appeared to Enthusiasts at Its Commencement
© William Wordsworth
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!For mighty were the auxiliars which then stoodUpon our side, we who were strong in love!Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,But to be young was very heaven!--Oh! times,In which the meagre, stale, forbidding waysOf custom, law, and statute, took at onceThe attraction of a country in romance!When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,When most intent on making of herselfA prime Enchantress--to assist the workWhich then was going forward in her name!Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,The beauty wore of promise, that which sets(As at some moment might not be unfeltAmong the bowers of paradise itself )The budding rose above the rose full blown
Elegiac Stanzas Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm, Painted by Sir George Beaumont
© William Wordsworth
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:I saw thee every day; and all the whileThy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
Song of a Sewing Machine
© Woodrow Constance
Oh, the happiest worker of all am I,As my wheel and my needle so merrily fly;With a spool full of thread and a heart full of song,I am ready and willing to work the day long.
He will tell me later the story of the woman he has been alluding to all day
© Williams Ian
because it takes three hours and gives him the blues badso not now, not now, later, he promises, then falls asleepon my couch, shrugging his upper lip like a horse
On the Dark, Still, Dry Warm Weather, Occasionally Happening in the Winter Months
© Gilbert White
To Thomas Pennant, Esquire. ... equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis Ingenium. Virg., Georg.
Aunt Chloe
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
1.1I remember, well remember,1.2 That dark and dreadful day,1.3When they whispered to me, "Chloe,1.4 Your children's sold away!"
Working Class
© Warr Bertram
We have heard no nightingales singingin cool, dim lane, where eveningcomes like a procession through the aisles at passion-tide,filling the church with quiet prayer dressed in white