Work poems
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The Borough. Letter I
© George Crabbe
"DESCRIBE the Borough"--though our idle tribe
May love description, can we so describe,
Through Liberty To Light
© Alfred Austin
Fixed is my Faith, the lingering dawn despite,
That still we move through Liberty to Light.
The Human Tragedy.
In Memory Of Col. Charles Young
© Countee Cullen
Along the shore the tall thin grass,
That fringes that dark river,
While sinuously soft feet pass
Beings to bleed and quiver.
Pioneers
© William Henry Drummond
If dey 're walkin' on de roadside, an' dey 're bote in love togeder,
An' de star of spring is shinin' wit' de young moon in between,
It was purty easy guessin' dey 're not talkin' of de wedder,
W'en de boy is comin' twenty, an' de girl is jus' eighteen.
If Those Who Love Us
© Edgar Albert Guest
F those who love us find us true
And kind and gentle, and are glad
When each grim working day is through
To have us near them, why be sad?
For The Commemoration Services
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FOUR summers coined their golden light in leaves,
Four wasteful autumns flung them to the gale,
Four winters wore the shroud the tempest weaves,
The fourth wan April weeps o'er hill and vale;
Sonnet 7: When Nature
© Sir Philip Sidney
When Nature made her chief work, Stella's eyes,
In color black why wrapp'd she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mix'd of shades and light?
Stings
© Sylvia Plath
Bare-handed, I hand the combs.
The man in white smiles, bare-handed,
Our cheesecloth gauntlets neat and sweet,
The throats of our wrists brave lilies.
He and I
Phantom Or Fact? A Dialogue In Verse
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Friend.
This riddling Tale, to what does it belong?
Is't History? Vision? or an idle Song?
Or rather say at once, within what space
Of Time this wild disastrous change took place?
Retrospection
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
WHEN you and I were young, the days
Were filled with scent of pink and rose,
Vulcan's Song: In Making Of The Arrows
© John Lyly
MY shag-hair Cyclops, come, let's ply
Our Lemnian hammers lustily.
By my wife's sparrows,
I swear these arrows
Shall singing fly
Through many a wanton's eye.
This World
© George MacDonald
Thy world is made to fit thine own,
A nursery for thy children small,
The playground-footstool of thy throne,
Thy solemn school-room, Father of all!
When day is done, in twilight's gloom,
We pass into thy presence-room.
A Modest Request
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SCENE,--a back parlor in a certain square,
Or court, or lane,--in short, no matter where;
Time,--early morning, dear to simple souls
Who love its sunshine and its fresh-baked rolls;
Persons,--take pity on this telltale blush,
That, like the AEthiop, whispers, "Hush, oh hush!"
Aforetime
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Thou findest parables;
With fond imagination
Adorning truth
For the successive
Unpersuaded
Generations.
Tyre
© James Bayard Taylor
THE wild and windy morning is lit with lurid fire;
The thundering surf of ocean beats on the rocks of Tyre, --
Johnnie's First Moose
© William Henry Drummond
De cloud is hide de moon, but dere's plain-
tee light above,
Secrets
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
LIFE has dark secrets; and the hearts are few
That treasure not some sorrow from the world-
