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To the Canadian Poets, 1940
© Souster Raymond
Come, my little eunuchs, my tender virgins,it's high time you were home and in bed.The wind's cold and strong in the streets now,and it's almost ten o'clock.
Here Lies Poor Nick
© Smith Sydney
Here lies poor Nick, an honest creature,Of faithful, gentle, courteous nature;A parlour pet unspoil'd by favour,A pattern of good dog behaviour
Empty Bed Blues
© Smith Bessie
I woke up this mornin'with an awful achin' head,I woke up this mornin'with an awful achin' head,My new man left me,Just a room and an empty bed.
Chinoiserie
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
It is not you, no, madam, whom I love,Nor you either, Juliet, nor you,Ophelia, nor Beatrice, nor that dove,Fair-haired Laura with the big eyes; No.
My Little Wet Home In the Trench
© Skeyhill Tom
I've a little wet home in the trench,Which the rain-storms continually drench; Blue sky overhead, Mud and clay for a bed,And a stone that we use for a bench
This is the house of Bedlam
© Elizabeth Bishop
This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.
Astrophel and Stella: Eight Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a groue most rich of shade,Where birds wanton musicke made,May then yong his pide weedes showing,New perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweete,Did for mutuall comfort meet,Both within themselues oppressed,But each in the other blessed
A Pastoral Ballad, Absence
© William Shenstone
Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never carelessly roam;Should Corydon's happen to stray, Oh! call the poor wanderers home
Dream Song 93: General Fatigue stalked in, and a Major-General
© John Berryman
General Fatigue stalked in, & a Major-General,
Captain Fatigue, and at the base of all
pale Corporal Fatigue,
and curious microbes came, came viruses:
and the Court conferred on Henry, and conferred on Henry
the rare Order of Weak.
Lines: "When the Lamp Is Shattered"
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
When the lamp is shatteredThe light in the dust lies dead-- When the cloud is scatteredThe rainbow's glory is shed
Shakespeare's Sonnets: O never say that I was false of heart
© William Shakespeare
O never say that I was false of heart,Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Is it thy will thy image should keep op'n
© William Shakespeare
Is it thy will thy image should keep op'nMy heavy eyelids to the weary night?Dost thou desire my slumbers should be brok'n,While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from theeSo far from home into my deeds to pry,To find out shames and idle hours in me,The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?O no, thy love, though much, is not so great,It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,To play the watch-man ever for thy sake
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing
© William Shakespeare
Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing,And like enough thou know'st thy estimate
Richard II (excerpts): This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle
© William Shakespeare
This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,This other Eden, demi-paradise,This fortress built by Nature for her selfAgainst infection and the hand of war,This happy breed of men, this little world,This precious stone set in a silver seaWhich serves it in the office of a wallOr as a moat defensive to a house,Against the envy of less happier lands,This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,Feared by their breed and famous for their birth,Renownèd for their deeds as far from homeFor Christian service and true chivalryAs is the sepulchre in stubborn JewryOf the world's ransom, blessèd Mary's son
The Merchant of Venice (excerpts): How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank
© William Shakespeare
Lorenzo: How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank; Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears
A New Profession
© Seaman Owen
My hopeless boy! when I compare (Claiming a father's right to do so)Your hollow brain, your vacuous air,With all the time, and wealth and care Lavished upon your mental trousseau;
