Good poems
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To Teach thy Base Thoughts Manners
© Middleton Thomas
To teach thy base thoughts manners: th'art one of thoseThat thinks each woman thy fond flexible whoreIf she but cast a liberal eye upon thee;Turn back her head, she's thine; or amongst company,By chance drink first to thee, then she's quite gone,There's no means to help her; nay, for a need,Wilt swear unto thy credulous fellow lechersThat th'art more in favour with a lady at first sightThan her monkey all her life time
Tom Deadlight (1810)
© Herman Melville
During a tempest encountered homeward-bound from the Mediterranean, a grizzled petty-officer, one of the two captains of the forecastle, dying at night in his hammock, swung in the sick-bay under the tiered gun-decks of the British Dreadnought, 98, wandering in his mind, though with glimpses of sanity, and starting up at whiles, sings by snatches his good-bye and last injunctions to two messmates, his watchers, one of whom fans the fevered tar with the flap of his old sou'-wester
Young Canada, or Jack's as Good as his Master
© McLachlan Alexander
I love this land of forest grand! The land where labour's free;Let others roam away from home, Be this the land for me!Where no one moils, and strains and toils, That snobs may thrive the faster;And all are free, as men should be, And Jack's as good's his master!
Where none are slaves, that lordly knaves May idle all the year;For rank and caste are of the past,-- They'll never flourish here!And Jew or Turk if he'll but work, Need never fear disaster;He reaps the crop he sowed in hope, For Jack's as good's his master
Reunion
© McGimpsey David
What is my news? Well, since graduating,I've raked it in and I've tossed it off,I've plucked the green peach and sodded the pitch
Lines written under the conviction that it is not wise to read Mathematics in November after one’s fire is out
© James Clerk Maxwell
In the sad November time,When the leaf has left the lime,And the Cam, with sludge and slime, Plasters his ugly channel,While, with sober step and slow,Round about the marshes low,Stiffening students stumping go Shivering through their flannel
[Let that which is to come be as it may...]
© John Masefield
Let that which is to come be as it may,Darkness, extinction, justice, life intenseThe flies are happy in the summer day,Flies will be happy many summers hence
The Blacksmith
© John Masefield
The blacksmith in his sparky forge,Beat on the white-hot softness there;Even as he beat he sang an airTo keep the sparks out of his gorge.
The Wind Our Enemy
© Marriott Anne
Windflattening its gaunt furious self againstthe naked siding, knifing in the woundsof time, pausing to tear aside the lastold scab of paint.
