All Poems
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The Elephant
© Hilaire Belloc
When people call this beast to mind,
They marvel more and more
At such a little tail behind,
So large a trunk before.
Tarantella
© Hilaire Belloc
Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the bedding
In a Lady's Album
© Marcus Clarke
WHAT can I write in thee, O dainty book,
About whose daintiness faint perfume lingers
L'Envoy of Chaucer to Bukton
© Geoffrey Chaucer
My Master Bukton, when of Christ our King
Was asked, What is truth or soothfastness?
The Frog
© Hilaire Belloc
No animal will more repay
A treatment kind and fair;
At least so lonely people say
Who keep a frog (and, by the way,
They are extremely rare).
Billy Vickers
© Henry Kendall
Indeed, I'm forced to say aside,
To you, O reader, solely,
He only wants the horns and hide
To be a bullock wholly.
The Early Morning
© Hilaire Belloc
The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:
The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother.
The moon on my left and the dawn on my right.
My brother, good morning: my sister, good night.
The Distant Ship
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Look round thee!âo'er the slumbering deep
A solemn glory broods;
A fire hath touch'd the beacon-steep,
And all the golden woods;
In the footsteps of the walking air
© Kenneth Patchen
In the footsteps of the walking air
Sky's prophetic chickens weave their cloth of awe
And hillsides lift green wings in somber journeying.
Meditation
© Mikhail Lermontov
With sadness I survey our present generation!
Their future seems so empty, dark, and cold,
Mondnacht (Night Of The Moon)
© Joseph Freiherr Von Eichendorff
Es war, als hätt' der Himmel
Die Erde still geküsst
Dass sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müsst
Whoso List to Hunt
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, helas! I may no more.
The vain travail hath worried me so sore,
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Dicky
© Robert Graves
To-night across the down,
Whistling and jolly,
I sauntered out from town
With my stick of holly.
With Serving Still
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
With serving still
This I have won,
For my goodwill
To be undone.
Ye Old Mule
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
Ye old mule that think yourself so fair,
Leave off with craft your beauty to repair,
For it is true, without any fable,
No man setteth more by riding in your saddle.
Too much travail so do your train appair.
Ye old mule
ghazal 7
© Daagh Dehlvi
jo zamane k sitam hain vo zamana jane
tune dil itne dukhaye hain k ji janta hai
What Needeth These Threat'ning Words
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
What needeth these threnning words and wasted wind?
All this cannot make me restore my prey.
To rob your good, iwis, is not my mind,
Nor causeless your fair hand did I display.
Expenses
© Gamaliel Bradford
I'm sick to death of money, of the lack of it, that is,
And of practising perpetually small economies;
Of paring off a penny here, another penny there,
Of the planning and the worrying, the everlasting care.
