Food poems
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Daphles. An Argive Story
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
But the Queen's host by skilful champions led,
Its powers meanwhile concentred to a head,
Lay, an embattled force with wary eye,
Ready to ward or strike whene'er the cry
Of coming foemen on their ears should fall,
Nigh the huge towers which guard the capital.
The Golden Legend: Prologue & 1.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Lucifer._ HASTEN! hasten!
O ye spirits!
From its station drag the ponderous
Cross of iron, that to mock us
Is uplifted high in air!
On A Fork of Byron's.
© James Brunton Stephens
LIKE any other fork. No mark you meet with
To point some psychological conceit with.
A Castaway
© Augusta Davies Webster
So long since:
and now it seems a jest to talk of me
as if I could be one with her, of me
who am…… me.
A Goblin Christmas
© Anonymous
The windows rattled, the moonbeams tattled
A tale so strange and queer.
They told how at night, in dire affright
The Moon had hid in fear.
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto IX.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
IV Fool and Wise
Endow the fool with sun and moon,
Being his, he holds them mean and low;
But to the wise a little boon
Is great, because the giver's so.
Song of the Shingle-Splitters
© Henry Kendall
IN dark wild woods, where the lone owl broods
And the dingoes nightly yell
A Story Of Doom: Book II.
© Jean Ingelow
Now ere the sunrise, while the morning star
Hung yet behind the pine bough, woke and prayed
Twardowski's Wife
© Adam Mickiewicz
Eating, drinking, smoking, laughter,
Reverly and wild to-do -
They shake the inn from floor to rafter
With huzzahing and halloo.
That For Money!
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Sallust, I know you of old,
How you hate the sight of gold--
"Idle ingots that encumber
Mother Earth"--I've got your number.
Don Juan: Canto The First
© George Gordon Byron
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Bread
© Jones Very
Long do we live upon the husks of corn,
While 'neath untasted lie the kernels still,
The Borough. Letter XI: Inns
© George Crabbe
All the comforts of life in a Tavern are known,
'Tis his home who possesses not one of his own;
And to him who has rather too much of that one,
'Tis the house of a friend where he's welcome to
"Just for joy, take from my palms"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Just for joy, take from my palms
A little sun, a little honey,
As Persephone's bees commanded.
The Hermit
© Thomas Parnell
Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a rev'rend hermit grew;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:
Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days,
Pray'r all his bus'ness, all his pleasure praise.
