Work poems
/ page 79 of 355 /How Do You Tackle Your Work?
© Edgar Albert Guest
How do you tackle your work each day?
Are you scared of the job you find?
Written In A Young Lady's Album
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Sweet friend, the world, like some fair infant blessed,
Radiant with sportive grace, around thee plays;
Nathan The Wise - Act I
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
O Nathan, Nathan,
How miserable you had nigh become
During this little absence; for your house -
The King's Task
© Rudyard Kipling
After the sack of the City when Rome was sunk to a name,
In the years that the lights were darkened, or ever St. Wilfrid
I Want It Now
© Roald Dahl
Gooses, geeses
I want my geese to lay gold eggs for easter
At least a hundred a day
And by the way
Discontent And Quarrelling
© Charles Lamb
JANE.
O may be, may be, very well:
And may be, brother, I don't tell
Tales to mamma like you.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto III.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!
Empire Building
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"I'll teach them how to work, and how to pray."
Oh, John, you never think before your day
Rome was, Greece wascan one believe it true?
Great Egypt died, and never heard of you!
The Singer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Years since (but names to me before),
Two sisters sought at eve my door;
Two song-birds wandering from their nest,
A gray old farm-house in the West.
The cricket sang,
© Emily Dickinson
The cricket sang,
And set the sun,
And workmen finished, one by one,
Their seam the day upon.
The Donkey In The Cart To The Horse In The Carriage
© George MacDonald
I say! hey! cousin there! I mustn't call you brother!
Yet you have a tail behind, and I have another!
You pull, and I pull, though we don't pull together:
You have less hardship, and I have more weather!
Ego
© John Greenleaf Whittier
On page of thine I cannot trace
The cold and heartless commonplace,
A statue's fixed and marble grace.
Banks of Riverine
© Anonymous
Hark! Hark! the dogs are barking, I can no longer stay;
The boys have all gone shearing, so I heard the shepherd say;
So I must be off in the morning, love, though it's many a weary mile,
To meet the Victorian shearers on the banks of Riverine.
The Four Children
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Linking her chain sweet Geraldine said,
"Big John or James I will surely wed;
I soon must choose which shall best please me,
I care not at all for little Benjie."
The Sorrow Tugs
© Edgar Albert Guest
There's a lot of joy in the smiling world,
there's plenty of morning sun,
The House Of Dust: {Complete}
© Conrad Aiken
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.