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How Many Times

How many times?

How many times does it get before it start to count?
He said it was needed just so she can fall in line

Ademijuwon Adebagbo
Nigeria, My Country

Nigeria my country
Where milk and honey flow
Blessed with greener pasture
Nigeria my country

Adetunbi Maxwell
Cultural Exchange

In the Quarter of the Negroes
Where the doors are doors of paper
Dust of dingy atoms
Blows a scratchy sound.

Langston Hughes
Value Of Literature

Value of literature is above precious ruby,
It voice higher than the dictation of God,
So timeless, with in-depth human undergo,
Worthy of deep cerebral feelings to deal

Santosh Kumar
Young Democracy

HARK! Young Democracy from sleep
Our careless sentries raps:
A backwash from the Futureâ??s deep
Our Evilâ??s foreland laps.

Bernard O'dowd
My Birthday

A dozen years since in this house what commotion,
What bustle, what stir, and what joyful ado;
Every soul in the family at my devotion,
When into the world I came twelve years ago.

Charles Lamb

What, then, is taste but those internal powers,
Active and strong, and feeling alive
To each fine impulse? a discerning sense
Of decent and sublime, with quick disgust

Mark Akenside
Who Needs School?

In the future, fifteen years from now,
This won't matter,
My name carved into that desk will just be a carving,
And the pot-bellied children will still be starving.

Hannah Ashwin
September 1, 1939

I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire

W. H. Auden

IN yonder red-brick mansion, tight and square,
Just at the town's commencement, lives the mayor.
Some yards of shining gravel, fenced with box,
Lead to the painted portal--where one knocks :

Jane Taylor
The Wickedness Of Men

The beauty of the flag is been soiled with hates , and greed,
The bravery of our past heroes are been taking in vain,
Our rich and great culture is been silenced by greedy Men,
Our lands are fertile but our grains are been planted on rocks ,

Josh Ehinomhen
Apollo Belvedere

A-sitttin' on a cracker box an' spittin' in the stove,
I took a sudden notion that I'd kindo' like to rove;
An' so I bought a ticket, jest as easy as could be,
From Pumpkinville in Idaho to Rome in Italy;

Robert Service
The Gods Of Greece

Ye in the age gone by,
Who ruled the world--a world how lovely then!--
And guided still the steps of happy men
In the light leading-strings of careless joy!

Friedrich Schiller
Art’s Martyr

Telleth of a young man that fain would be fairly tattooed on his
flesh, after the heathen manner, in devices of blue, and that,
falling among the Dyacks, a folk of Borneo, was by them tattooed
in modern fashion and device, and of his misery that fell upon

Andrew Lang
Irkalla's White Caves

I believe that a young woman
Is standing in a circle of lions
In the other side of the sky.


Kenneth Patchen
Vision Of Columbus — Book 2

High o'er the changing scene, as thus he gazed,
The indulgent Power his arm sublimely raised;
When round the realms superior lustre flew,
And call'd new wonders to the hero's view.

Joel Barlow
Tale Xvi


Anna was young and lovely--in her eye
The glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:

George Crabbe
The Giaour: A Fragment Of A Turkish Tale

No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb which, gleaming o'er the cliff
First greets the homeward-veering skiff

George Gordon Byron
Cadet Grey: Canto Ii


Where West Point crouches, and with lifted shield
Turns the whole river eastward through the pass;

Bret Harte
The Secret Police

They are listening in the wires,
in the walls, under the eaves
in the wings of house martins,
in the ears of old women,

Ken Smith
At The "atlantic" Dinner

I suppose it's myself that you're making allusion to
And bringing the sense of dismay and confusion to.
Of course some must speak, - they are always selected to,
But pray what's the reason that I am expected to?

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Embalm'd in fame, and sacred from decay,
What mighty name, in arms, in arts, or verse,
From England claims this consecrated day.
Her nobles crowding round the shadowy hearse?

Thomas Gent
The World In The House

PILGRIMS who journey in the narrow way,
Should go as little cumbered as they may.
'Tis heavy sailing with a freighted ship ;
'Tis pleasant travelling with a staff and scrip.

Jane Taylor

To-day the woods are trembling through and through
With shimmering forms, that flash before my view,
Then melt in green as dawn-stars melt in blue.
The leaves that wave against my cheek caress

Sidney Lanier

This rose-tree is not made to bear
The violet blue, nor lily fair,
Nor the sweet mignonette:
And if this tree were discontent,

Charles Lamb

"As certain also of your own poets have said"--
(Acts 17.28)
Cleon the poet (from the sprinkled isles,
Lily on lily, that o'erlace the sea

Robert Browning
Elegy On Newstead Abbey

'It is the voice of years that are gone!
they roll before me with all their deeds.'~OSSIAN


George Gordon Byron
Lover's Gifts Xxii: I Shall Gladly Suffer

I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,
if only in some happy future I am born a herd-boy in the Brinda
The herd-boy who grazes his cattle sitting under the banyan

Rabindranath Tagore
Culture And Cops

Five nights agone I lay at rest
On my suburban couch.
My trousers on the bedpost hung,
Red gold within their pouch.

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Welsh History

We were a people taut for war; the hills
Were no harder, the thin grass
Clothed them more warmly than the coarse
Shirts our small bones.

Ronald Stuart Thomas
The Devil Of Pope-fig Island

BY master Francis clearly 'tis expressed:
The folks of Papimania are blessed;
True sleep for them alone it seems was made
With US the copy only has been laid;

Jean De La Fontaine
Among The Hills

ALONG the roadside, like the flowers of gold
That tawny Incas for their gardens wrought,
Heavy with sunshine droops the golden-rod,

John Greenleaf Whittier

With belly like a poisoned pup
Said I: 'I must give bacon up:
And also, I profanely fear,
I must abandon bread and beer

Robert William Service
The Woods

I love the woods when the magic hand
Of Spring, as if sweeping the keys
Of a wornout instrument, touches the earth;
When beauty and song in the gladness of birth

Hattie Howard

Inscribed to W.H. Channing

Though loath to grieve

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dim in the mist of ages, seeking a resting-place,
Broke on the shores of Britain the wave of an Aryan race.
Clear throâ?? the mist of ages, ere ever the White Christ came,
Songs of the Cymric singers have chanted the Brython fame.

George Essex Evans

Can rules or tutors educate
The semigod whom we await?
He must be musical,
Tremulous, impressional,

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Libertatis Sacra Fames

Albeit nurtured in democracy,
And liking best that state republican
Where every man is Kinglike and no man
Is crowned above his fellows, yet I see,

Oscar Wilde
Ida Chicken

After I had attended lectures
At our Chautauqua, and studied French
For twenty years, committing the grammar
Almost by heart,

Edgar Lee Masters
Always There Are The Children

and always there are the children

there will be children in the heat of day
there will be children in the cold of winter

Nikki Giovanni
Internal Migration: On Being On Tour

As an American traveler I have
to remember not to get actionably mad
about the way things are around here.
Tomorrow Iâ??ll be a thousand miles away

Alan Dugan

Sounds of rural life and labour!
Not the notes of pipe and tabour,
Not the clash of helm and sabre
Bright'ning up the field of glory,

Charles Sangster
I Am With Terrorism

We are accused of terrorism:
if we defended rose and woman
and the mighty verse ...
and the blueness of sky ...

Nizar Qabbani
The Falmouth Bell

Never was there lovelier town
Than our Falmouth by the sea.
Tender curves of sky look down
On her grace of knoll and lea.

Katharine Lee Bates
At The

DECEMBER 15, 1874

I SUPPOSE it's myself that you're making allusion to
And bringing the sense of dismay and confusion to.

Oliver Wendell Holmes
Scum O’ The Earth


At the gate of the West I stand,
On the isle where the nations throng.

Robert Haven Schauffler
The Missionary.

Plough, vessel, plough the British main,
Seek the free ocean's wider plain;
Leave English scenes and English skies,
Unbind, dissever English ties;

Charlotte Brontë
The Journey.[1]

Some of my friends (for friends I must suppose
All, who, not daring to appear my foes,
Feign great good will, and, not more full of spite
Than full of craft, under false colours fight),

Charles Churchill
The Salad. By Virgil

The winter night now well nigh worn away,
The wakeful cock proclaimed approaching day,
When Simulus, poor tenant of a farm
Of narrowest limits, heard the shrill alarm,

William Cowper
Epistle. To Mrs. Hannah More On Her Recent Publication—“practical Piety”

June 1811.

Hail! hallow'd sister! of a saintly band!

William Hayley