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Fighting My Satan

Fighting My Satan

Sometimes I seem to be normal outwardly,
It doesn’t mean that ‘I feel better’ inwardly

Mohammad Younus
The Day Of Days

A year is filled with glad events:
The best is Christmas day,
But every holiday presents
Its special round of play,

Edgar Albert Guest
A Little While, A Little While

A little while, a little while,
The weary task is put away,
And I can sing and I can smile,
Alike, while I have holiday.

Emily Brontë
My Namesake

Addressed to Francis Greenleaf Allison of Burlington, New Jersey.

You scarcely need my tardy thanks,
Who, self-rewarded, nurse and tend--

John Greenleaf Whittier
Endymion: Book I


A Poetic Romance.


John Keats
I Am Lonely

The world is great: the birds all fly from me,
The stars are golden fruit upon a tree
All out of reach: my little sister went,
And I am lonely.

George Eliot
The Flower And The Leaf: Or, The Lady In The Arbour.[1]


Now turning from the wintry signs, the sun,

John Dryden
Me! Come! My Dazzled Face

Me! Come! My dazzled face
In such a shining place!

Me! Hear! My foreign ear

Emily Dickinson
The Day Is Gone, And All Its Sweets Are Gone

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone,
Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang'rous waist!

John Keats
Saint Monica

AMONG deep woods is the dismantled scite
Of an old Abbey, where the chaunted rite,
By twice ten brethren of the monkish cowl,
Was duly sung; and requiems for the soul

Charlotte Smith

In Paris on a morn of May
I sent a radio transalantic
To catch a steamer on the way,
But oh the postal fuss was frantic;

Robert Service
The Village Of Tayport And Its Surroundings

All ye pleasure-seekers, where'er ye be,
I pray ye all be advised by me,
Go and visit Tayport on the banks o' the Tay,
And there ye can spend a pleasant holiday.

William Topaz Mcgonagall
The Child Of The Islands - Winter


ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!

Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Summer Images

Now swarthy Summer, by rude health embrowned,
Precedence takes of rosy fingered Spring;
And laughing Joy, with wild flowers prank'd, and crown'd,
A wild and giddy thing,

John Clare

There is a party at the bar,
Life is too short.
Only people with tall ideas cope with it.
Yes i have a course outline with an assignment on it.

Blessings Mitembo
Introduction: Pippa Passes

New Year's Day at Asolo in the Trevisan


Robert Browning
You And I

They say the eagle is a bird
That sees some splendid sights
When he soars high into the sky
Upon his dizzy flights:

Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
A Saint

THE stir of children with fresh dresses on,
And men who meet and say unguarded words,
And women from the coops
Of drudgeries released;

Padraic Colum
Beautiful Newport On The Braes O' The Silvery Tay

Bonnie Mary, the Maid o' the Tay,
Come! Let's go, and have a holiday
In Newport, on the braes o' the silvery Tay,
'Twill help to drive dull care away.

William Topaz Mcgonagall
The Shepherd's Calendar - June

Now summer is in flower and natures hum
Is never silent round her sultry bloom
Insects as small as dust are never done
Wi' glittering dance and reeling in the sun

John Clare
At The Gate

The monastery towers, as pure and fair
As virgin vows, reached up white hands to Heaven;
The walls, to guard the hidden heart of prayer,
Were strong as sin, and white as sin forgiven;

E. (edith) Nesbit

Inviting the influence of a young lady upon the opening year

You wear the morning like your dress
And are with mastery crownâ??d;

Hilaire Belloc

Once on a time did Eucritus and I
(With us Amyntas) to the riverside
Steal from the city. For Lycopeus' sons
Were that day busy with the harvest-home,

Jon Corelis Theocritus
The Holidays

'AH! don't you remember, 'tis almost December,
And soon will the holidays come;
Oh, 'twill be so funny, I've plenty of money,
I'll buy me a sword and a drum. '

Ann Taylor

No rest-not one day in the seven for me?
Not one, from the maddening yoke to be free?
Not one to escape from the boss on the prowl,
His sinister glance and his furious growl,

Morris Rosenfeld

A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634, Before

The Earl Of Bridgewater, Then President Of Wales.


John Milton
Sometimes Even Now

Sometimes even now I may
Steal a prisoner's holiday,
Slip, when all is worst, the bands,
Hurry back, and duck beneath

Rupert Brooke
Ode: Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood

The child is father of the man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
(Wordsworth, “My Heart Leaps Up”)

William Wordsworth
Roll Girl

Loaded and rolling on,
This can't take you away clown,
Strength build in you will keep lighting,
Even when ninety nine candles are dying

Brian Dredan

Little maidens, when you look
On this little story-book,
Reading with attentive eye
Its enticing history,

Lewis Carroll

I NAMED her twice, I named her thrice,
I named her ten times over;
The wind heard, and the singing bird,
And the bee in the creamy clover.

Roderic Quinn
The Ballad Of Ben Hall's Gang

Come all ye wild colonials And listen to my tale;
A story of bushrangers' deeds I will to you unveil.
'Tis of those gallant heroes, Game fighters one and all;
And we'll sit and sing, Long Live the King,

Anonymous Oceania

To my mother. May, 1870.

The Landgrave Hermann held a gathering

Emma Lazarus
Holiday Home

Of all the sweet visions that come unto me
Of happy refreshment by land or by sea,
Like oases where in life's desert I roam,
Is nothing so pleasant as Holiday Home.

Hattie Howard

The dog stops barking after Robinson has gone.
His act is over. The world is a gray world,
Not without violence, and he kicks under the grand piano,
The nightmare chase well under way.

Weldon Kees
Alpine Holiday

He took the grade in second-quite a climb,
Dizzy and dangerous, yet how sublime!
The road went up and up; it curved around
The mountain and the gorge grew more profound.

Robert Service
La Piggion De Casa (the Rent)

Nun pòi sbajà ssi vòi. Qua ssu la dritta,
Ner comincio der Vicolo der Branca,
Doppo tre o quattro porte a manimanca
Te viè in faccia una pietra tutta scritta.

Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli


Paris, from throats of iron, silver, brass,
Joy-thundering cannon, blent with chiming bells,

Emma Lazarus
Wild Bees

These children of the sun which summer brings
As pastoral minstrels in her merry train
Pipe rustic ballads upon busy wings
And glad the cotters' quiet toils again.

John Clare
St. Nicholas.

In the far-off Polar seas,
Far beyond the Hebrides,
Where the icebergs, towering high,
Seem to pierce the wintry sky,

Horatio Alger, Jr.
The Silent Tide

A tangled orchard round the farm-house spreads,
Wherein it stands home-like, but desolate,
'Midst crowded and uneven-statured sheds,
Alike by rain and sunshine sadly stained.

George Parsons Lathrop

Bring flowers to strew His way,
Yea, sing, make holiday;
Bid young lambs leap,
And earth laugh after sleep.

Katharine Tynan
The World Is Great

The world is great!
The birds fly from me;
The stars are golden fruit
Upon a tree

George Eliot
Me! Come! My Dazzled Face

Me! Come! My dazzled face
In such a shining place!

Me! Hear! My foreign ear

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
The Hermit's Sacrifice

From Rome's palaces and villas
Gaily issued forth a throng;
From her humbler habitations
Moved a human tide along.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
The Poet's Dream (sequel To The Norman Boy)

Just as those final words were penned, the sun broke out in power,
And gladdened all things; but, as chanced, within that very hour,
Air blackened, thunder growled, fire flashed from clouds that hid the sky,
And, for the Subject of my Verse, I heaved a pensive sigh.

William Wordsworth
Epitaphs Of The War


A. "I was a Have." B. "I was a 'have-not.'"
(Together.) "What hast thou given which I gave not?"

Rudyard Kipling

Why should I keep holiday,
When other men have none?
Why but because when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone.

Ralph Waldo Emerson
Nymphs And Shepherds

Nymphs and shepherds, come away.
In this grove let's sport and play,
For this is Flora's holiday,
Sacred to ease and happy love,

Thomas Shadwell

To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom, and austere control?

Oscar Wilde