All Poems

/ page 2473 of 3210 /

Order by :

Henry King

© Hilaire Belloc

The Chief Defect of Henry King
Was chewing little bits of String.
At last he swallowed some which tied
Itself in ugly Knots inside.

To A Wealthy Man Who Promised A Second Subscription To The Dublin Municipal Gallery If It Were Prove

© William Butler Yeats

You gave, but will not give again

Until enough of paudeen's pence

Heroic Poem in Praise of Wine

© Hilaire Belloc

But since I would not, since I could not stay,
Let me remember even in this my day
How, when the ephemeral vision's lure is past
All, all, must face their Passion at the last

WeBee and Ilive by the quaffing

© Emily Dickinson

WeBee and Ilive by the quaffing
'Tisn't all Hockwith us
Life has its Ale
But it's many a lay of the Dim Burgundy
We chantfor cheerwhen the Winesfail

George

© Hilaire Belloc

Moral:
The moral is that little boys
Should not be given dangerous toys.

For A War Memorial

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The hucksters haggle in the mart
The cars and carts go by;
Senates and schools go droning on;
For dead things cannot die.

Juliet

© Hilaire Belloc

How did the party go in Portman Square?
I cannot tell you; Juliet was not there.

To Shakespeare (II)

© Frances Anne Kemble

Oft, when my lips I open to rehearse

Thy wondrous spells of wisdom and of power,

The Catholic Sun

© Hilaire Belloc

Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
Theres always laughter and good red wine.
At least Ive always found it so.
Benedicamus Domino!

Hello, Willie Shoemaker

© Charles Bukowski

the Chinaman said dont take the hardware

and gave me a steak I couldnt cut (except the fat)

Who was too Freely Moved to Tears, and thereby ruined his Political Career Lord Lundy from his earliest years
Was far too freely moved to Tears.
For instance if his Mother said,
"Lundy! It's time to go to Bed!"

Worth Forest

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Come, Prudence, you have done enough to--day--
The worst is over, and some hours of play
We both have earned, even more than rest, from toil;
Our minds need laughter, as a spent lamp oil,

The Vulture

© Hilaire Belloc

The Vulture eats between his meals,
And that's the reason why
He very, very, rarely feels
As well as you and I.

The Glove and the Lions

© James Henry Leigh Hunt

King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,
And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;
The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed:
And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.

Lines to a Don

Remote and ineffectual Don
That dared attack my Chesterton,
With that poor weapon, half-impelled,
Unlearnt, unsteady, hardly held,

Coole Park And Ballylee, 1931

Under my window-ledge the waters race,

Otters below and moor-hens on the top,

The Tiger

The tiger, on the other hand,
Is kittenish and mild,
And makes a pretty playfellow
For any little child.

Cats Cradle Song, By A Babe In Knots

Peter the Repeater,
Platted round a platter
Slips of slivered paper,
Basting them with batter.

Rebecca

A trick that everyone abhors
In little girls is slamming doors.
A wealthy banker's little daughter
Who lived in Palace Green, Bayswater
(By name Rebecca Offendort),
Was given to this furious sport.