Work poems
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The Silver Locks
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Tho' youth may boast the curls that flow,
In sunny waves of auburn glow;
As graceful on thy hoary head,
Has time the robe of honor spread,
And there, oh ! softly, softly shed,
His wreath of snow!
As I Ebb'd With the Ocean of Life
© Walt Whitman
I perceive I have not really understood any thing, not a single
object, and that no man ever can,
Nature here in sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart
upon me and sting me,
Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all.
Paddle Your Own Canoe
© Sarah Knowles Bolton
Voyager upon life's sea,
To yourself be true,
And whatever your lot may be,
Paddle your own canoe.
No Better Land Than This
© Edgar Albert Guest
If I knew a better country in this glorious world today
Where a man's work hours are shorter and he's drawing bigger pay,
If the Briton or the Frenchman had an easier life than mine,
I'd pack my goods this minute and I'd sail across the brine.
But I notice when an alien wants a land of hope and cheer,
And a future for his children, he comes out and settles here.
All-Saints' Day (1867)
© Ada Cambridge
Blessed are they whose baby-souls are bright,
Whose brows are sealèd with the cross of light,
Whom God Himself has deign'd to robe in white-
Blessed are they!
The Land Where I Was Born
© John Shaw Neilson
HAVE you ever been down to my countree
Where the trees are green and tall?
Queen Mab: Part IX.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Earth floated then below;
The chariot paused a moment there;
The Spirit then descended;
The restless coursers pawed the ungenial soil,
Snuffed the gross air, and then, their errand done,
Unfurled their pinions to the winds of heaven.
Bob Polter
© William Schwenck Gilbert
BOB POLTER was a navvy, and
His hands were coarse, and dirty too,
His homely face was rough and tanned,
His time of life was thirty-two.
Lycabas
© George MacDonald
A name of the Year. Some say the word means a march of wolves,
which wolves, running in single file, are the Months of the Year.
Others say the word means the path of the light.
Epistle Of Condolence From A Slave-Lord To A Cotton-Lord
© Thomas Moore
Alas ! my dear friend, what a state of affairs !
How unjustly we both are despoil'd of our rights !
Not a pound of black flesh shall I leave to my heirs,
Nor must you any more work to death little whites.
The Night Quatrains
© Charles Cotton
THE Sun is set, and gone to sleep
With the fair princess of the deep,
The Drunken Father
© Robert Bloomfield
Poor Ellen married Andrew Hall,
Who dwells beside the moor,
Where yonder rose-tree shades the wall,
And woodbines grace the door.
Eclogue:--The Common A-Took In
© William Barnes
Good morn t'ye, John. How b'ye? how b'ye?
Zoo you be gwaïn to market, I do zee.
Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi' your geese.
War
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Shake, shake the earth with giant tread,
Thou red-maned Titian bold;
Book Seventh [Residence in London]
© William Wordsworth
Returned from that excursion, soon I bade
Farewell for ever to the sheltered seats
Of gowned students, quitted hall and bower,
And every comfort of that privileged ground,
Well pleased to pitch a vagrant tent among
The unfenced regions of society.
Sayings
© James Russell Lowell
In life's small things be resolute and great
To keep thy muscle trained: know'st thou when Fate
Thy measure takes, or when she'll say to thee,
'I find thee worthy; do this deed for me'?
Molly Maguire at Monmouth
© William Taylor Collins
On the bloody field of Monmouth
Flashed the guns of Greene and Wayne.
John McKeen
© James Whitcomb Riley
John McKeen, in his rusty dress,
His loosened collar, and swarthy throat,
His face unshaven, and none the less,
His hearty laugh and his wholesomeness,
And the wealth of a workman's vote!
