All Poems
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The Discovery
© Thomas Hardy
I wandered to a crude coast
Like a ghost;
Upon the hills I saw fires -
Funeral pyres
Seemingly - and heard breaking
Waves like distant cannonades that set the land shaking.
Tommy
© Rudyard Kipling
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
Tomlinson
© Rudyard Kipling
Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square,
And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him by the hair --
A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried him far away,
Till he heard as the roar of a rain-fed ford the roar of the Milky Way:
Generation To Generation
© Antoine de Saint-Exupery
In a house which becomes a home,
one hands down and another takes up
Tin Fish
© Rudyard Kipling
The ships destroy us above
And ensnare us beneath.
We arise, we lie down, and we
In the belly of Death.
I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
What hours, O what black hours we have spent
This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!
And more must, in yet longer light's delay.
A Three-Part Song
© Rudyard Kipling
I'm just in love with all these three,
The Weald and the Marsh and the Down country.
Nor I don't know which I love the most,
The Weald or the Marsh or the white Chalk coast!
The Thousandth Man
© Rudyard Kipling
One man in a thousand, Solomon says,
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it's worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.
Things and the Man
© Rudyard Kipling
Oh ye who hold the written clue
To all save all unwritten things,
And, half a league behind, pursue
The accomplished Fact with flouts and flings,
The Mine-Sweepers
© Rudyard Kipling
Dawn off the Foreland-the young flood making
Jumbled and short and steep-
Tarrant Moss
© Rudyard Kipling
I closed and drew for my love's sake
That now is false to me,
And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss
And set Dumeny free.
A Tale of Two Cities
© Rudyard Kipling
Where the sober-colored cultivator smiles
On his byles;
Where the cholera, the cyclone, and the crow
Come and go;
Rondel.
© Robert Crawford
The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear;
The passers-by as ghosts appear,
Or things whose souls have taken flight
Horace I, 22.
© Eugene Field
Fuscus, whoso to good inclines--
And is a faultless liver--
Nor moorish spear nor bow need fear,
Nor poison-arrowed quiver.
Study of an Elevation, In Indian Ink
© Rudyard Kipling
Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.
Stands at the top of the tree;
And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led
To the hoisting of Potiphar G.
Pretty Cow
© Jane Taylor
Thank you, pretty cow, that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread
Every day and every night,
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white.
The Stranger
© Rudyard Kipling
The Stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk--
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.
The Story of Uriah
© Rudyard Kipling
Jack Barrett went to Quetta
Because they told him to.
He left his wife at Simla
On three-fourths his monthly screw.
Jack Barrett died at Quetta
Ere the next month's pay he drew.
