Work poems
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Amusing Trial, in Which a Yankee Lawyer Rendered a Just Verdict.
© Anonymous
And seek his fortune, he could find
Another master half so kind,
And who would give so large a share
Of the small pittance he could spare,
And every privilege could grant,
Which he could need or ever want;
Love And Beauty: III: To A Fair Woman, Unsatisfied With Woman's Work
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
If Beauty is a name for visible Love,
And Love for Beauty in the conscious soul,
Words In The Night
© George MacDonald
I woke at midnight, and my heart,
My beating heart, said this to me:
The Mask Of Anarchy
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
Rosamund
© Jean Ingelow
I dwell where England narrows running north;
And while our hay was cut came rumours up
Humming and swarming round our heads like bees:
His Monument
© Sarah Knowles Bolton
He built a house, time laid it in the dust;
He wrote a book, its title now forgot;
He ruled a city, but his name is not
On any tablet graven, or where rust
Can gather from disuse, or marble bust.
Beauty: [Notes for an unfinished poem]
© Wilfred Owen
The beautiful, the fair, the elegant,
Is that which pleases us, says Kant,
Without a thought of interest or advantage.
An Anniversary
© Ada Cambridge
AS flower to sun its drop of dew
Gives from its crystal cup,
So I, as morning gift to you,
This poor verse offer up.
II.
Riding Round the Lines
© Henry Lawson
Dust and smoke against the sunrise out where grim disaster lurks
And a broken sky-line looming like unfinished railway works,
And a trot, trot, trot and canter down inside the belt of mines:
It is General Greybeard Shrapnel who is riding round his lines.
Sacred Gipsy Carol - Prologue
© John Kenyon
FIRST GIPSY. But still at the end of the vital line
A secret untold remains to divine.
Give again, sweet Babe! thy palm to spell,
And a charming secret we can tell.
But, first, the tester we must hold;
Without it, nothing can be told.
Hudibras: Part 1 - Canto III
© Samuel Butler
Quoth RALPHO, Truly that is no
Hard matter for a man to do,
That has but any guts in 's brains,
And cou'd believe it worth his pains;
But since you dare and urge me to it,
You'll find I've light enough to do it.
Ole Tam On Bord-A-Plouffe
© William Henry Drummond
I lak on summer ev'ning, w'en nice cool win' is blowin'
An' up above ma head, I hear de pigeon on de roof,
To bring ma chair an' sit dere, an' watch de current flowin'
Of ole Riviere des Prairies as she pass de Bord-a Plouffe.
Celebration Of Peace
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The holy, familiar hall, built long ago,
Is aired, and filled with heavenly,
The Borough. Letter IV: Sects And Professions In Religion
© George Crabbe
"SECTS in Religion?"--Yes of every race
We nurse some portion in our favour'd place;
Italy : 24. Florence
© Samuel Rogers
Of all the fairest Cities of the Earth
None is so fair as Florence. 'Tis a gem
Of purest ray; and what a light broke forth,
When it emerged from darkness! Search within,
An Imitation Of Some French Verses
© Thomas Parnell
Relentless Time! destroying Pow'r
Whom Stone and Brass obey,
The Sulkers
© Edgar Albert Guest
The world's too busy now to pause
To listen to a whiner's cause;
It has no time to stop and pet
The sulker in a peevish fret,
Who wails he'll neither work nor play
Go Work in My Vineyard
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
The hands whose touch sent thrills of joy
Through nerves unstrung and palsied rame,
The feet that travelled for our need,
Were nailed unto the cross of shame.
The Kangaroo
© Barron Field
When sooty swans are once more rare,
And duck-moles the Museum's care,
Be still the glory of this land,
Happiest Work of finest Hand!
