Finance poems

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Sestina Otiosa

© Raleigh Walter Alexander

Our great work, the Otia Merseiana,Edited by learned Mister Sampson,And supported by Professor Woodward,Is financed by numerous Bogus MeetingsHastily convened by Kuno MeyerTo impose upon the Man of Business

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The Masque of B-ll--l

© Anonymous

First come I. My name is J-W-TT.There's no knowledge but I know it.I am Master of this College,What I don't know isn't knowledge.

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Safe And Sound

© Ezra Pound

My name is Nunty Cormorant
And my finance is sound,
I lend you Englishmen hot air
At one and three the pound.

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Heads And Tails

© Franklin Pierce Adams

If a single man is studious and quiet, people say
  He is grouchy, he is old before his time;
If he's frivolous and flippant, if he treads the primrose way,
  Then they mark him for a wild career of crime.

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A Message Of Jeff Davis In Secret Session

© James Russell Lowell

I sent you a messige, my friens, t'other day,

To tell you I'd nothin' pertickler to say:

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© Jane Taylor

  It is not worth our while, but if it were,
We all could undertake to laugh at her ;
Since vulgar prejudice, the lowest kind,
Of course, has full possession of her mind ;
Here, therefore, let us leave her, and inquire
Wherein it differs as it rises higher.

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The Cure

© Rudyard Kipling

To-day? God knows where he may lie-
 His Cross of weathered beads above him:
But one not worthy to untie
 His shoe-string, prays you read-and love him!

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War Profit Litany

© Allen Ginsberg

To Ezra PoundThese are the names of the companies that have made
money from this war
nineteenhundredsixtyeight Annodomini fourthousand
eighty Hebraic

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Feb. 29, 1958

© Allen Ginsberg

Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot
welcoming me to the land of dream
Sofas couches fog in England
Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows

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All The Talents

© George Canning

When the broad-bottom'd Junto, with reason at strife,
Resign'd, with a sigh, its political life;
When converted to Rome, and of honesty tired,
They gave back to the Devil the soul he inspired.

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© Allen Ginsberg

  Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder.
  In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept.
  Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore
  Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity—
  Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death
  This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms!

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Songs Of Education: V. The Higher Mathematics

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Form 339125, Sub-Section M

  Twice one is two,

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Aurora Leigh: Book Eighth

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 In my ears
The sound of waters. There he stood, my king!

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Steinli Von Slang

© Charles Godfrey Leland

DER watchman look out from his tower
Ash de Abendgold glimmer grew dim,
Und saw on de road troo de Gauer

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The Country Clergyman's Trip To Cambridge -- An Election Ballad

© Thomas Babbington Macaulay

As I sate down to breakfast in state,

At my living of Tithing-cum-Boring,

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History of the Twentieth Century (A Roadshow)

© Joseph Brodsky

Ladies and gentlemen and the day!
All ye made of sweet human clay!
Let me tell you: you are o'kay.

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The Vision of Judgment

© Lord Byron

I thank thee, Jew for teaching me that word.' PREFACE It hath been wisely said, that 'One fool makes many;' and it hath been poetically observed —'That fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' - Pope If Mr. Southey had not rushed in where he had no business, and where he never was before, and never will be again, the following poem would not have been written. It is not impossible that it may be as good as his own, seeing that it cannot, by any species of stupidity, natural or acquired, be worse. The gross flattery, the dull impudence, the renegado intolerance, and impious cant, of the poem by the author if 'Wat Tyler,' are something so stupendous as to form the sublime of himself — containing the quintessence of his own attributes. So much for his poem — a word on his preface. In this preface it has pleased the magnanimous Laureate to draw the picture of a supposed 'Satanic School,' the which he doth recommend to the notice of the legislature; thereby adding to his other laurels, the ambition of those of an informer. If there exists anywhere, except in his imagination, such a School, is he not sufficiently armed against it by his own intense vanity? The truth is, that there are certain writers whom Mr. S. imagines, like Scrub, to have 'talked of him; for they have laughed consumedly.' I think I know enough of most of the writers to whom he is supposed to allude, to assert, that they, in their individual capacities, have done more good, in the charities of life, to their fellow-creatures, in any one year, than Mr. Southey has done harm to himself by his absurdities in his whole life; and this is saying a great deal. But I have a few questions to ask. 1stly, Is Mr. Southey the author of 'Wat Tyler'? 2ndly, Was he not refused a remedy at law by the highest judge of his beloved England, because it was a blasphemous and seditious publication? 3rdly, Was he not entitled by William Smith, in full Parliament, 'a rancorous renegado'? 4thly, Is he not poet laureate, with his own lines on Martin the regicide staring him in the face? And 5thly, Putting the four preceding items together, with what conscience dare he call the attention of the laws to the publications of others, be they what they may? I say nothing of the cowardice of such a proceeding, its meanness speaks for itself; but I wish to touch upon the motive, which is neither more nor less than that Mr. S. has been laughed at a little in some recent publications, as he was of yore in the 'Anti-jacobin,' by his present patrons. Hence all this 'skimble-scamble stuff' about 'Satanic,' and so forth. However, it is worthy of him — 'qualis ab incepto.' If there is anything obnoxious to the political opinions of a portion of the public in the following poem, they may thank Mr. Southey. He might have written hexameters, as he has written everything else, for aught that the writer cared — had they been upon another subject. But to attempt to canonise a monarch, who, whatever where his household virtues, was neither a successful nor a patriot king, — inasmuch as several years of his reign passed in war with America and Ireland, to say nothing of the aggression upon France, — like all other exaggeration, necessarily begets opposition. In whatever manner he may be spoken of in this new 'Vision,' his public career will not be more favourably transmitted by history. Of his private virtues (although a little expense to the nation) there can be no doubt. With regard to the supernatural personages treated of, I can only say that I know as much about them, and (as an honest man) have a better right to talk of them than Robert Southey. I have also treated them more tolerantly. The way in which that poor insane creature, the Laureate, deals about his judgments in the next world, is like his own judgment in this. If it was not completely ludicrous, it would be something worse. I don't think that there is much more to say at present. QUEVEDO REDIVIVUS P.S. — It is possible that some readers may object, in these objectionable times, to the freedom with which saints, angels, and spiritual persons discourse in this 'Vision.' But, for precedents upon such points, I must refer him to Fielding's 'Journey from the World to the next,' and to the Visions of myself, the said Quevedo, in Spanish or translated. The reader is also requested to observe, that no doctrinal tenets are insisted upon or discussed; that the person of the Deity is carefully withheld from sight, which is more than can be said for the Laureate, who hath thought proper to make him talk, not 'like a school-divine,' but like the unscholarlike Mr. Southey. The whole action passes on the outside of heaven; and Chaucer's 'Wife of Bath,' Pulci's 'Morgante Maggiore,' Swift's 'Tale of a Tub,' and the other

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© Edgar Albert Guest

My father knows the proper way
The nation should be run;
He tells us children every day
Just what should now be done.

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What Father Knows

© Edgar Albert Guest

My father knows the proper way

  The nation should be run;

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The Sinking Fund Cried

© Thomas Moore

Take your bell, take your bell,
Good Crier, and tell
To the Bulls and the Bears, till their ears are stunn'd,
That, lost or stolen,
Or fall'n through a hole in
The Treasury floor, is the Sinking Fund!