Car poems
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The Cricket
© Frederick Goddard Tuckerman
The humming bee purrs softly o'er his flower, From lawn and thicketThe dogday locust singeth in the sun, From hour to hour;Each has his bard, and thou, ere day be done Shalt have no wrong;So bright that murmur mid the insect crowdMuffled and lost in bottom grass, or loud By pale and picket:Shall I not take to help me in my song A little cooing cricket?
The afternoon is sleepy!, let us lieBeneath these branches, whilst the burdened brookMuttering and moaning to himself goes by,And mark our minstrel's carol, whilst we lookToward the faint horizon, swooning-blue
And Her Mother Came Too
© Titheradge Dion
I seem to be the victim of a cruel jest,It dogs my footsteps with the girl I love the best.She's just the sweetest thing that I have ever known,But still we never get the chance to be alone.
Theory of Something
© Tierney Matthew
Roaches laid open by minutens, arrangedin a glass box under rule of thumb, heirs
A Poem, Addressed to the Lord Privy Seal, on the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song
Postscript
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
I am a careless weaver Who works with dazzled eye:Amid the fields I wander, And I leave my threads awry For God alone to ply.
Art
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
All finest art is seen In forms that foil the bladeUnkeen -- Verse, marble, gem inlaid.
The City of Dreadful Night
© James Thomson
As I came through the desert thus it was,As I came through the desert: All was black,In heaven no single star, on earth no track;A brooding hush without a stir or note,The air so thick it clotted in my throat;And thus for hours; then some enormous thingsSwooped past with savage cries and clanking wings: But I strode on austere; No hope could have no fear
The Seasons: Summer
© James Thomson
From brightening fields of ether fair-disclos'd,Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes,In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:He comes, attended by the sultry HoursAnd ever-fanning Breezes, on his way;While, from his ardent look, the turning SpringAverts her blushful face; and earth and skies,All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves
The Castle of Indolence: Canto I
© James Thomson
The Castle hight of Indolence,And its false luxury;Where for a little time, alas!We liv'd right jollily.
Locksley Hall Sixty Years After
© Alfred Tennyson
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 56
© Alfred Tennyson
"So careful of the type?" but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, "A thousand types are gone:I care for nothing, all shall go.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 131
© Alfred Tennyson
O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Rise in the spiritual rock,Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]
© Alfred Tennyson
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
Battle of Brunanburh
© Alfred Tennyson
Constantinus, King of the Scots, after having sworn allegiance to Athelstan, allied himself with the Danes of Ireland under Anlaf, and invading England, was defeated by Athelstan and his brother Edmund with great slaughter at Brunanburh in the year 937
The Unceasing Round
© Taylor Edward Robeson
In centre of the canvas see this pine All stark in death, with arms in vain appeal For what it nevermore can taste or feel Of joys of earth or of the heavens divine
