Family poems

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Lost Mr. Blake

© William Schwenck Gilbert

He was quite indifferent as to the particular kinds of dresses
That the clergyman wore at church where he used to go to pray,
And whatever he did in the way of relieving a chap's distresses,
He always did in a nasty, sneaking, underhanded, hole-and-corner
sort of way.

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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

© Robinson Jeffers

I

The apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

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Italy : 15. Luigi

© Samuel Rogers

Happy is he who loves companionship,
And lights on thee, Luigi.  Thee I found,
Playing at Mora on the cabin-roof
With Punchinello. -- 'Tis a game to strike

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The One I Think of Now by Wesley McNair: American Life in Poetry #100 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate

© Ted Kooser

Here the Maine poet, Wesley McNair, offers us a vivid description of a man who has lived beyond himself. I'd guess you won't easily forget this sad old man in his apron with his tray of cheese.

The One I Think of Now

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Grandmother Speaks of the Old Country by Lola Haskins: American Life in Poetry #64 Ted Kooser, U.S.

© Ted Kooser

Storytelling binds the past and present together, and is as essential to community life as are food and shelter. Many of our poets are masters at reshaping family stories as poetry. Here Lola Haskins retells a haunting tale, cast in the voice of an elder. Like the best stories, there are no inessential details. Every word counts toward the effect.

Grandmother Speaks of the Old Country

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To Aunt Rose

© Allen Ginsberg


  Aunt Rose
  Hitler is dead, Hitler is in Eternity; Hitler is with
  Tamburlane and Emily Brontë

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Jewish Wedding in Bombay

© Nissim Ezekiel

Her mother shed a tear or two but wasn't really
crying. It was the thing to do, so she did it
enjoying every moment. The bride laughed when I
sympathized, and said don't be silly.

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A Manchester Poem

© George MacDonald

'Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark and sad.
The cloud has fallen, and filled with fold on fold
The chimneyed city; and the smoke is caught,
And spreads diluted in the cloud, and sinks,
A black precipitate, on miry streets.
And faces gray glide through the darkened fog.

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The Fire-side

© Nathaniel Cotton

Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;
Tho' singularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.

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University

© Karl Shapiro

To hurt the Negro and avoid the Jew

Is the curriculum. In mid-September

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The Botanic Garden (Part VIII)

© Erasmus Darwin

  "Sweet ECHO! sleeps thy vocal shell,
  "Where this high arch o'erhangs the dell;
  "While Tweed with sun-reflecting streams
  "Chequers thy rocks with dancing beams?-

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The Professor

© Nissim Ezekiel

Remember me? I am Professor Sheth.

Once I taught you geography. Now

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Cultural Exchange

© Langston Hughes

Pushcarts fold and unfold
In a supermarket sea.
And we better find out, mama,
Where is the colored laundromat
Since we move dup to Mount Vernon.

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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7

© Publius Vergilius Maro

AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,  

Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;  

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Don Juan: Canto The Second

© George Gordon Byron

Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,

Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,

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The Vote of Thanks Debate

© Henry Lawson

THE OTHER NIGHT I got the blues and tried to smile in vain.

I couldn’t chuck a chuckle at the foolery of Twain;

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The Heavy Dragoon

© William Schwenck Gilbert

If you want a receipt for that popular mystery,

Known to the world as a Heavy Dragoon,

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A Man Meets A Woman In The Street

© Randall Jarrell

Under the separated leaves of shade

Of the gingko, that old tree

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Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth

© Ovid

 The End of the Eighth Book.


 Translated into English verse under the direction of
 Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
 William Congreve and other eminent hands

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On Chenoweth’s Run

© Madison Julius Cawein

I thought of the road through the glen,
  With its hawk's nest high in the pine;
  With its rock, where the fox had his den,
  'Mid tangles of sumach and vine,
  Where she swore to be mine.