CAVERNOUS POEMS
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The Trail Of Ninety-eight
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools.
Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools.
Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,
Heard we the clarion summons, followed the master-lure-Gold!
.....
Robert Service
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools.
Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools.
Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,
Heard we the clarion summons, followed the master-lure-Gold!
.....
Robert Service
The Blueberries
“You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
.....
Robert Frost
“You ought to have seen what I saw on my way
To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day:
Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb,
Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum
.....
Robert Frost
Men
Man is a creature of a thousand whims;
The slave of hope and fear and circumstance.
Through toil and martyrdom a million years
Struggling and groping upward from the brute,
.....
Hanford Lennox Gordon
Man is a creature of a thousand whims;
The slave of hope and fear and circumstance.
Through toil and martyrdom a million years
Struggling and groping upward from the brute,
.....
Hanford Lennox Gordon
Free Beings' Song
Wild cat, brother of my soul,
be untamed, and without chain;
Don't follow any human path,
And veil yourself in tops and weeds.
.....
Clark Ashton Smith
Wild cat, brother of my soul,
be untamed, and without chain;
Don't follow any human path,
And veil yourself in tops and weeds.
.....
Clark Ashton Smith
A Silence
past parentage or gender
beyond sung vocables
the slipped-between
the so infinitesimal
.....
Amy Clampitt
past parentage or gender
beyond sung vocables
the slipped-between
the so infinitesimal
.....
Amy Clampitt
A Loafer
I hang about the streets all day,
At night I hang about;
I sleep a little when I may,
But rise betimes the morning's scout;
.....
John Davidson
I hang about the streets all day,
At night I hang about;
I sleep a little when I may,
But rise betimes the morning's scout;
.....
John Davidson
The Little Black Cormorant
By inlet and islet and wide river reaches,
By lake and lagoon I'm at home,
Yet oft' the far forests of blue-gum and beeches
About the broad ranges I roam,
.....
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
By inlet and islet and wide river reaches,
By lake and lagoon I'm at home,
Yet oft' the far forests of blue-gum and beeches
About the broad ranges I roam,
.....
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Blueberries
'You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day: Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to come! And all ripe together, not some of them green And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen! ' 'I don't know what part of the pasture you mean.' 'You know where they cut off the woodsâ??let me seeâ?? It was two years agoâ??or no! â??can it be No longer than that? â??and the following fall The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall.' 'Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow. That's always the way with the blueberries, though: There may not have been the ghost of a sign Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine, But get the pine out of the way, you may burn The pasture all over until not a fern Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick, And presto, they're up all around you as thick And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick.' 'It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit. I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot. And after all really they're ebony skinned: The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind, A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand, And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned.' 'Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think? ' 'He may and not care and so leave the chewink To gather them for himâ??you know what he is. He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his An excuse for keeping us other folk out.' 'I wonder you didn't see Loren about.' 'The best of it was that I did. Do you know, I was just getting through what the field had to show And over the wall and into the road, When who should come by, with a democrat-load Of all the young chattering Lorens alive, But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive.' 'He saw you, then? What did he do? Did he frown? ' 'He just kept nodding his head up and down. You know how politely he always goes by. But he thought a big thoughtâ??I could tell by his eyeâ?? Which being expressed, might be this in effect: 'I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect, To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.'' 'He's a thriftier person than some I could name.' 'He seems to be thrifty; and hasn't he need, With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed? He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, Like birds. They store a great many away. They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet.' 'Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live, Just taking what Nature is willing to give, Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow.' 'I wish you had seen his perpetual bowâ?? And the air of the youngsters! Not one of them turned, And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.' 'I wish I knew half what the flock of them know Of where all the berries and other things grow, Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. I met them one day and each had a flower Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower; Some strange kindâ??they told me it hadn't a name.' 'I've told you how once not long after we came, I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth By going to him of all people on earth To ask if he knew any fruit to be had For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad. There had been some berriesâ??but those were all gone. He didn't say where they had been. He went on: 'I'm sureâ??I'm sure'â??as polite as could be. He spoke to his wife in the door, 'Let me see, Mame, we don't know any good berrying place? ' It was all he could do to keep a straight face. 'If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him, He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim, We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year. We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear, And the sun shines out warm: the vines must be wet. It's so long since I picked I almost forget How we used to pick berries: we took one look round, Then sank out of sight like trolls underground, And saw nothing more of each other, or heard, Unless when you said I was keeping a bird Away from its nest, and I said it was you. 'Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew Around and around us. And then for a while We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile, And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out, For when you made answer, your voice was as low As talkingâ??you stood up beside me, you know.' 'We sha'n't have the place to ourselves to enjoyâ?? Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy. They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night. They won't be too friendlyâ??they may be politeâ?? To people they look on as having no right To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain. You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain, The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves, Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves.'
.....
Robert Frost
'You ought to have seen what I saw on my way To the village, through Mortenson's pasture to-day: Blueberries as big as the end of your thumb, Real sky-blue, and heavy, and ready to drum In the cavernous pail of the first one to come! And all ripe together, not some of them green And some of them ripe! You ought to have seen! ' 'I don't know what part of the pasture you mean.' 'You know where they cut off the woodsâ??let me seeâ?? It was two years agoâ??or no! â??can it be No longer than that? â??and the following fall The fire ran and burned it all up but the wall.' 'Why, there hasn't been time for the bushes to grow. That's always the way with the blueberries, though: There may not have been the ghost of a sign Of them anywhere under the shade of the pine, But get the pine out of the way, you may burn The pasture all over until not a fern Or grass-blade is left, not to mention a stick, And presto, they're up all around you as thick And hard to explain as a conjuror's trick.' 'It must be on charcoal they fatten their fruit. I taste in them sometimes the flavour of soot. And after all really they're ebony skinned: The blue's but a mist from the breath of the wind, A tarnish that goes at a touch of the hand, And less than the tan with which pickers are tanned.' 'Does Mortenson know what he has, do you think? ' 'He may and not care and so leave the chewink To gather them for himâ??you know what he is. He won't make the fact that they're rightfully his An excuse for keeping us other folk out.' 'I wonder you didn't see Loren about.' 'The best of it was that I did. Do you know, I was just getting through what the field had to show And over the wall and into the road, When who should come by, with a democrat-load Of all the young chattering Lorens alive, But Loren, the fatherly, out for a drive.' 'He saw you, then? What did he do? Did he frown? ' 'He just kept nodding his head up and down. You know how politely he always goes by. But he thought a big thoughtâ??I could tell by his eyeâ?? Which being expressed, might be this in effect: 'I have left those there berries, I shrewdly suspect, To ripen too long. I am greatly to blame.'' 'He's a thriftier person than some I could name.' 'He seems to be thrifty; and hasn't he need, With the mouths of all those young Lorens to feed? He has brought them all up on wild berries, they say, Like birds. They store a great many away. They eat them the year round, and those they don't eat They sell in the store and buy shoes for their feet.' 'Who cares what they say? It's a nice way to live, Just taking what Nature is willing to give, Not forcing her hand with harrow and plow.' 'I wish you had seen his perpetual bowâ?? And the air of the youngsters! Not one of them turned, And they looked so solemn-absurdly concerned.' 'I wish I knew half what the flock of them know Of where all the berries and other things grow, Cranberries in bogs and raspberries on top Of the boulder-strewn mountain, and when they will crop. I met them one day and each had a flower Stuck into his berries as fresh as a shower; Some strange kindâ??they told me it hadn't a name.' 'I've told you how once not long after we came, I almost provoked poor Loren to mirth By going to him of all people on earth To ask if he knew any fruit to be had For the picking. The rascal, he said he'd be glad To tell if he knew. But the year had been bad. There had been some berriesâ??but those were all gone. He didn't say where they had been. He went on: 'I'm sureâ??I'm sure'â??as polite as could be. He spoke to his wife in the door, 'Let me see, Mame, we don't know any good berrying place? ' It was all he could do to keep a straight face. 'If he thinks all the fruit that grows wild is for him, He'll find he's mistaken. See here, for a whim, We'll pick in the Mortensons' pasture this year. We'll go in the morning, that is, if it's clear, And the sun shines out warm: the vines must be wet. It's so long since I picked I almost forget How we used to pick berries: we took one look round, Then sank out of sight like trolls underground, And saw nothing more of each other, or heard, Unless when you said I was keeping a bird Away from its nest, and I said it was you. 'Well, one of us is.' For complaining it flew Around and around us. And then for a while We picked, till I feared you had wandered a mile, And I thought I had lost you. I lifted a shout Too loud for the distance you were, it turned out, For when you made answer, your voice was as low As talkingâ??you stood up beside me, you know.' 'We sha'n't have the place to ourselves to enjoyâ?? Not likely, when all the young Lorens deploy. They'll be there to-morrow, or even to-night. They won't be too friendlyâ??they may be politeâ?? To people they look on as having no right To pick where they're picking. But we won't complain. You ought to have seen how it looked in the rain, The fruit mixed with water in layers of leaves, Like two kinds of jewels, a vision for thieves.'
.....
Robert Frost
Zone
At last you're tired of this elderly world
Shepherdess O Eiffel Tower this morning the bridges are bleating
.....
Guillaume Apollinaire
At last you're tired of this elderly world
Shepherdess O Eiffel Tower this morning the bridges are bleating
.....
Guillaume Apollinaire
The Man Who Saw
The master weavers at the enchanted loom
Of Legend, weaving long ago those tales
Through which there wanders the grey thread of truth,
Lost in the gorgeous arras of romance,
.....
William Watson
The master weavers at the enchanted loom
Of Legend, weaving long ago those tales
Through which there wanders the grey thread of truth,
Lost in the gorgeous arras of romance,
.....
William Watson
The Black Knight
I had not found the road too short,
As once I had in days of youth,
In that old forest of long ruth,
Where my young knighthood broke its heart,
.....
Madison Julius Cawein
I had not found the road too short,
As once I had in days of youth,
In that old forest of long ruth,
Where my young knighthood broke its heart,
.....
Madison Julius Cawein
Truth To Tell
Vous n'etes que les masques sur des faces masquees
-Apollinaire
Start, then, with a sense of beginning, of sleep
.....
Jared Carter
Vous n'etes que les masques sur des faces masquees
-Apollinaire
Start, then, with a sense of beginning, of sleep
.....
Jared Carter
Sweeney Erect
And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!
.....
T. S. Eliot
And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!
.....
T. S. Eliot
The Ballad Of Gum-boot Ben
He was an old prospector with a vision bleared and dim.
He asked me for a grubstake, and the same I gave to him.
He hinted of a hidden trove, and when I made so bold
To question his veracity, this is the tale he told.
.....
Robert Service
He was an old prospector with a vision bleared and dim.
He asked me for a grubstake, and the same I gave to him.
He hinted of a hidden trove, and when I made so bold
To question his veracity, this is the tale he told.
.....
Robert Service
The House Of Life: Introductory Sonnet
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,-
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,-
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Gradual Clearing
Late in the day the fog
wrung itself out like a sponge
in glades of rain,
sieving the half-invisible
.....
Amy Clampitt
Late in the day the fog
wrung itself out like a sponge
in glades of rain,
sieving the half-invisible
.....
Amy Clampitt
The House Of Life: The Sonnet
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
The Sonnet
A sonnet is a moment's monument, --
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A sonnet is a moment's monument, --
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Shadwell Stair
I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.
Along the wharves by the water-house,
And through the cavernous slaughter-house,
I am the shadow that walks there.
.....
Wilfred Owen
I am the ghost of Shadwell Stair.
Along the wharves by the water-house,
And through the cavernous slaughter-house,
I am the shadow that walks there.
.....
Wilfred Owen
The Skeleton In Armor
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,
Comest to daunt me!
.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
“Speak! speak! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,
Comest to daunt me!
.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
By The Sea
I am longing to dwell by the sea,
And dip in the surf every day,
And-height of subaqueous glee-
With the sharks and the porpoises play.
.....
Hattie Howard
I am longing to dwell by the sea,
And dip in the surf every day,
And-height of subaqueous glee-
With the sharks and the porpoises play.
.....
Hattie Howard
From The House Of Life The Sonnet
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A Sonnet is a moment's monument,
Memorial from the Soul's eternity
To one dead deathless hour. Look that it be,
Whether for lustral rite or dire portent,
.....
Dante Gabriel Rossetti
New And Old
I and new love, in all its living bloom,
Sat vis-Ã -vis, while tender twilight hours
Went softly by us, treading as on flowers.
Then suddenly I saw within the room
.....
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I and new love, in all its living bloom,
Sat vis-Ã -vis, while tender twilight hours
Went softly by us, treading as on flowers.
Then suddenly I saw within the room
.....
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Life
Nay, lift me to thy lips, Life, and once more
Pour the wild music through me-
I quivered in the reed-bed with my kind,
.....
Edith Wharton
Nay, lift me to thy lips, Life, and once more
Pour the wild music through me-
I quivered in the reed-bed with my kind,
.....
Edith Wharton
The Unremembered
What stern prenatal palls occlude from us
Once-dominant Signs, once-rampant arms! How strait
The sunless road, suspended, separate,
That leads from death to birth! Not luminous
.....
Clark Ashton Smith
What stern prenatal palls occlude from us
Once-dominant Signs, once-rampant arms! How strait
The sunless road, suspended, separate,
That leads from death to birth! Not luminous
.....
Clark Ashton Smith
Sarah Walker
It was very hot. Not a breath of air was stirring throughout the western wing of the Greyport Hotel, and the usual feverish life of its four hundred inmates had succumbed to the weather. The great veranda was deserted; the corridors were desolated; no footfall echoed in the passages; the lazy rustle of a wandering skirt, or a passing sigh that was half a pant, seemed to intensify the heated silence. An intoxicated bee, disgracefully unsteady in wing and leg, who had been holding an inebriated conversation with himself in the corner of my window pane, had gone to sleep at last and was snoring. The errant prince might have entered the slumberous halls unchallenged, and walked into any of the darkened rooms whose open doors gaped for more air, without awakening the veriest Greyport flirt with his salutation. At times a drowsy voice, a lazily interjected sentence, an incoherent protest, a long-drawn phrase of saccharine tenuity suddenly broke off with a gasp, came vaguely to the ear, as if indicating a half-suspended, half-articulated existence somewhere, but not definite enough to indicate conversation. In the midst of this, there was the sudden crying of a child.
I looked up from my work. Through the camera of my jealously guarded window I could catch a glimpse of the vivid, quivering blue of the sky, the glittering intensity of the ocean, the long motionless leaves of the horse-chestnut in the road, all utterly inconsistent with anything as active as this lamentation. I stepped to the open door and into the silent hall.
.....
Bret Harte (francis)
It was very hot. Not a breath of air was stirring throughout the western wing of the Greyport Hotel, and the usual feverish life of its four hundred inmates had succumbed to the weather. The great veranda was deserted; the corridors were desolated; no footfall echoed in the passages; the lazy rustle of a wandering skirt, or a passing sigh that was half a pant, seemed to intensify the heated silence. An intoxicated bee, disgracefully unsteady in wing and leg, who had been holding an inebriated conversation with himself in the corner of my window pane, had gone to sleep at last and was snoring. The errant prince might have entered the slumberous halls unchallenged, and walked into any of the darkened rooms whose open doors gaped for more air, without awakening the veriest Greyport flirt with his salutation. At times a drowsy voice, a lazily interjected sentence, an incoherent protest, a long-drawn phrase of saccharine tenuity suddenly broke off with a gasp, came vaguely to the ear, as if indicating a half-suspended, half-articulated existence somewhere, but not definite enough to indicate conversation. In the midst of this, there was the sudden crying of a child.
I looked up from my work. Through the camera of my jealously guarded window I could catch a glimpse of the vivid, quivering blue of the sky, the glittering intensity of the ocean, the long motionless leaves of the horse-chestnut in the road, all utterly inconsistent with anything as active as this lamentation. I stepped to the open door and into the silent hall.
.....
Bret Harte (francis)
The Supreme Test
Now it was clear to every Shade
That some great wonder was before them,
As Tom upon the palisade
Emptied, as fast as Lulu bore them,
.....
E. J. Pratt
Now it was clear to every Shade
That some great wonder was before them,
As Tom upon the palisade
Emptied, as fast as Lulu bore them,
.....
E. J. Pratt
The Charity Ball
There was many a token of festal display,
And reveling crowds who were never so gay,
And, as it were AEolus charming the hours,
An orchestra hidden by foliage and flowers;
.....
Hattie Howard
There was many a token of festal display,
And reveling crowds who were never so gay,
And, as it were AEolus charming the hours,
An orchestra hidden by foliage and flowers;
.....
Hattie Howard
The Word Of An Engineer
“She's built of steel
From deck to keel,
And bolted strong and tight;
In scorn she'll sail
.....
James Weldon Johnson
“She's built of steel
From deck to keel,
And bolted strong and tight;
In scorn she'll sail
.....
James Weldon Johnson
Freaks Of Fashion
Such a hubbub in the nests,
Such a bustle and squeak!
Nestlings, guiltless of a feather,
Learning just to speak,
.....
Christina Rossetti
Such a hubbub in the nests,
Such a bustle and squeak!
Nestlings, guiltless of a feather,
Learning just to speak,
.....
Christina Rossetti
Love Motives
To You.
SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
.....
Arthur Henry Adams
To You.
SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
.....
Arthur Henry Adams
A Sea Dialogue
Cabin Passenger:
FRIEND, you seem thoughtful. I not wonder much
That he who sails the ocean should be sad.
I am myself reflective. When I think
.....
Oliver Wendell Holmes
Cabin Passenger:
FRIEND, you seem thoughtful. I not wonder much
That he who sails the ocean should be sad.
I am myself reflective. When I think
.....
Oliver Wendell Holmes
The Young Princess -- A Ballad Of Old Laws Of Love
1--I
When the South sang like a nightingale
Above a bower in May,
.....
George Meredith
1--I
When the South sang like a nightingale
Above a bower in May,
.....
George Meredith
The God's View-point
Cheeta Raibama Chunder Sen,
The wisest and the best of men,
Betook him to the place where sat
With folded feet upon a mat
.....
Ambrose Bierce
Cheeta Raibama Chunder Sen,
The wisest and the best of men,
Betook him to the place where sat
With folded feet upon a mat
.....
Ambrose Bierce
How Shall My Animal
How shall my animal
Whose wizard shape I trace in the cavernous skull,
Vessel of abscesses and exultation's shell,
Endure burial under the spelling wall,
.....
Dylan Thomas
How shall my animal
Whose wizard shape I trace in the cavernous skull,
Vessel of abscesses and exultation's shell,
Endure burial under the spelling wall,
.....
Dylan Thomas
The Black Knight
'T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness.
Thus began the King and spake:
'So from the halls
.....
Johann Ludwig Uhland
'T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness.
Thus began the King and spake:
'So from the halls
.....
Johann Ludwig Uhland
To A Child
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee,
With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles,
Thou gazest at the painted tiles,
Whose figures grace,
.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee,
With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles,
Thou gazest at the painted tiles,
Whose figures grace,
.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Youth In Memory
Days, when the ball of our vision
Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun;
When the grasp on the bow was decision,
And arrow and hand and eye were one;
.....
George Meredith
Days, when the ball of our vision
Had eagles that flew unabashed to sun;
When the grasp on the bow was decision,
And arrow and hand and eye were one;
.....
George Meredith
The Empty Purse--a Sermon To Our Later Prodigal Son
Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank,
Too plainly of all the propellers bereft!
Quenched youth, and is that thy purse?
Even such limp slough as the snake has left
.....
George Meredith
Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank,
Too plainly of all the propellers bereft!
Quenched youth, and is that thy purse?
Even such limp slough as the snake has left
.....
George Meredith
The Trail Of Ninety-eight
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools.
Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools.
Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,
Heard we the clarion summons, followed the master-lure--Gold!
.....
Robert William Service
Gold! We leapt from our benches. Gold! We sprang from our stools.
Gold! We wheeled in the furrow, fired with the faith of fools.
Fearless, unfound, unfitted, far from the night and the cold,
Heard we the clarion summons, followed the master-lure--Gold!
.....
Robert William Service
The Black Knight. (from The German Of Uhland)
'Twas Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness,
Thus began the King and spake:
So from the halls
.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
'Twas Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
When woods and fields put off all sadness,
Thus began the King and spake:
So from the halls
.....
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Granny Discovers Another Tiger
That's him!! The authentic, identical beast!
The Unionist tiger, full brother to 'Sosh'!
I know by the prowl of him.
Hark to the growl of him,
.....
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
That's him!! The authentic, identical beast!
The Unionist tiger, full brother to 'Sosh'!
I know by the prowl of him.
Hark to the growl of him,
.....
Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Chione
Scarcely a breath about the rocky stair
Moved, but the growing tide from verge to verge,
Heaving salt fragrance on the midnight air,
Climbed with a murmurous and fitful surge.
.....
Archibald Lampman
Scarcely a breath about the rocky stair
Moved, but the growing tide from verge to verge,
Heaving salt fragrance on the midnight air,
Climbed with a murmurous and fitful surge.
.....
Archibald Lampman
Poem On His Birthday
In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks
.....
Dylan Thomas
In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks
.....
Dylan Thomas
Adventures Of Isabel
Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn't care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
.....
Ogden Nash
Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn't care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
.....
Ogden Nash
The Ballad Of Gum-boot Ben
He was an old prospector with a vision bleared and dim.
He asked me for a grubstake, and the same I gave to him.
He hinted of a hidden trove, and when I made so bold
To question his veracity, this is the tale he told.
.....
Robert William Service
He was an old prospector with a vision bleared and dim.
He asked me for a grubstake, and the same I gave to him.
He hinted of a hidden trove, and when I made so bold
To question his veracity, this is the tale he told.
.....
Robert William Service
To Scenes I Used To Know.
I can see the back-log blazing and the sparkles take their flight
Up the cavernous old chimney on a merry Christmas night;
I can see the old folks smiling and the children's cheeks aglow,
And a saucy maiden standing there beneath the mistletoe;
.....
George W. Doneghy
I can see the back-log blazing and the sparkles take their flight
Up the cavernous old chimney on a merry Christmas night;
I can see the old folks smiling and the children's cheeks aglow,
And a saucy maiden standing there beneath the mistletoe;
.....
George W. Doneghy
Copying Architecture In An Old Minster (wimborne)
How smartly the quarters of the hour march by
That the jack-o'-clock never forgets;
Ding-dong; and before I have traced a cusp's eye,
Or got the true twist of the ogee over,
.....
Thomas Hardy
How smartly the quarters of the hour march by
That the jack-o'-clock never forgets;
Ding-dong; and before I have traced a cusp's eye,
Or got the true twist of the ogee over,
.....
Thomas Hardy