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Way To Go
She was born in the hills
dotted with villages quiet and small.
Her village was breathtakingly beautiful
With a scenic landscape,
C K Rawat
The Old Survey
Our money's all spent, to the deuce went it!
The landlord, he looks glum,
On the tap-room wall, in a very bad scrawl,
He has chalked to us a sum.
You left without a goodbye,
Leaving me to wait nearby,
Making me to wave at the passerby,
Maybe you will come by.
That was a curious dream; I thought the three
Great planets that are drawing near the sun
With such unerring certainty begun
To talk together in a mighty glee.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What Wor It?
What wor it made me love thee, lass?
Aw connot tell;
Aw know it worn't for thi brass; -
Tho' poor misel
A Servant To Servants
I didn't make you know how glad I was
To have you come and camp here on our land.
I promised myself to get down some day
And see the way you lived, but I don't know!
It's guessing time at our house; every evening after tea
We start guessing what old Santa's going to leave us on our tree.
Everyone of us holds secrets that the others try to steal,
And that eyes and lips are plainly having trouble to conceal.
Edgar Albert Guest
Hot streaks of white rolls down my cheek
As he holds me ever so close to his heart
The beat of it is like a sweet lullaby reminding me how much he loves me
I am an alien
I live in a world where aggression and brutality are the codes
The people of this world find fun in watching people slowly lose their breath
Piol Tiek John
Gettin' together to smile an' rejoice,
An' eatin' an' laughin' with folks of your choice;
An' kissin' the girls an' declarin' that they
Are growin more beautiful day after day;
Edgar Albert Guest
Channel 1's no fun.
Channel 2's just news.
Channel 3's hard to see.
Channel 4 is just a bore.
The mountain held the town as in a shadow
I saw so much before I slept there once:
I noticed that I missed stars in the west,
Where its black body cut into the sky.
The Holy Fair
A note of seeming truth and trust
Hid crafty observation;
And secret hung, with poison'd crust,
The dirk of defamation:
The People Upstairs
The people upstairs all practise ballet
Their living room is a bowling alley
Their bedroom is full of conducted tours.
Their radio is louder than yours,
The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
Mountains covered with snow & forest are the source,
For the cascade of streams & rivers to nourish the lands,
Why am I full of joy although
It drizzles on the links?
Why am I buying Veuve Cliquot,
And setting up the drinks?
Well now, hold on
maybe I won't go to sleep at all
and it'll be a beautiful white night
or else I'll collapse
Like A Vocation
Not as that dream Napoleon, rumour's dread and centre,
Before who's riding all the crowds divide,
Who dedicates a column and withdraws,
Nor as that general favourite and breezy visitor
W. H. Auden
The three stood listening to a fresh access
Of wind that caught against the house a moment,
Gulped snow, and then blew free again-the Coles
Dressed, but dishevelled from some hours of sleep,
They dumped it on the lonely road,
Then like a streak they sped;
And as along the way I strode
I thought that it was dead:
One would be in less danger
From the wiles of a stranger
If one's own kin and kith
Were more fun to be with.
Youth And Art
1 It once might have been, once only:
2 We lodged in a street together,
3 You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely,
4 I, a lone she-bird of his feather.
As I was saying . . . (No, thank you; I never take cream with my tea;
Cows weren't allowed in the trenches-got out of the habit, y'see.)
As I was saying, our Colonel leaped up like a youngster of ten:
“Come on, lads!” he shouts, “and we'll show 'em,” and he sprang to the head of the men.
A Naughty Little Comet
There was a little comet who lived near the Milky Way!
She loved to wander out at night and jump about and play.
The mother of the comet was a very good old star;
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
they clapped when we landed
thinking africa was just an extension
of the black world
they smiled as we taxied home to be met
Rose, when I remember you,
Little lady, scarcely two,
I am suddenly aware
Of the angels in the air.
Jobson Of The Star
Within a pub that's off the Strand and handy to the bar,
With pipe in mouth and mug in hand sat Jobson of the Star.
“Come, sit ye down, ye wond'ring wight, and have a yarn,” says he.
“I can't,” says I, “because to-night I'm off to Tripoli;
As I was going to St Ives
I met a man with seven wives
Said he, 'I think it's much more fun
Than getting stuck with only one.'
I quarreled with my brother,
I don't know what another.
I had think about him,
On The Grasshopper And Cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
The Old-fashioned Thanksgiving
It may be I am getting old and like too much to dwell
Upon the days of bygone years, the days I loved so well;
But thinking of them now I wish somehow that I could know
A simple old Thanksgiving Day, like those of long ago,
Edgar Albert Guest
we've ignored eachother for a long time
and I'm strictly an indoor man
anytime to call would be the wrong time
I'll avoid you as long as I can
Her ladyship's getten a babby, -
An they're makkin a famous to do, -
They say, - Providence treated her shabby -
Shoo wor fairly entitled to two.
Snug at the club two fathers sat,
Gross, goggle-eyed, and full of chat.
One of them said: “My eldest lad
Writes cheery letters from Bagdad.
The Dance Of Life
Gracious and lovable and sweet,
She made his jaded pulses beat,
And made the glare of streets grow dim
And life more soft and hushed for himâ?¦.
Conrad Potter Aiken