Humor poems

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Sonnet XLII: Some Men There Be

© Michael Drayton

Some men there be which like my method well
And much commend the strangeness of my vein;
Some say I have a passing pleasing strain;
Some say that im my humor I excel;

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Sonnet VII: Love in a Humour

© Michael Drayton

Love in a humor play'd the prodigal
And bade my Senses to a solemn feast;
Yet, more to grace the company withal,
Invites my Heart to be the chiefest guest.

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Sonnet XIX: You Cannot Love

© Michael Drayton

To HumorYou cannot love, my pretty heart, and why?
There was a time you told me that you would;
But now again you will the same deny,
If it might please you, would to God you could.

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Alive Together

© Lisel Mueller

Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you, when I might have been
alive with anyone under the sun,
when I might have been Abelard's woman

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The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam 1 - 250 (Whinfield Translation)

© Omar Khayyám

At dawn a cry through all the tavern shrilled,
"Arise, my brethren of the revelers' guild,
That I may fill our measure full of wine,
Or e'er the measure of our days be filled."

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Almon Keefer

© James Whitcomb Riley

Ah, Almon Keefer! what a boy you were,
With your back-tilted hat and careless hair,
And open, honest, fresh, fair face and eyes
With their all-varying looks of pleased surprise
And joyous interest in flower and tree,
And poising humming-bird, and maundering bee.

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In The Churchyard At Tarrytown

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Here lies the gentle humorist, who died

  In the bright Indian Summer of his fame!

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Plea For A History Of Working-class Leeds

© Barry Tebb

I want a true history of my city

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Blanche Sweet

© Vachel Lindsay

MOVING-PICTURE ACTRESS(After seeing the reel called "Oil and Water.")
Beauty has a throne-room
In our humorous town,
Spoiling its hob-goblins,

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The Wizard in the Street

© Vachel Lindsay

I love him in this blatant, well-fed place.
Of all the faces, his the only face
Beautiful, tho' painted for the stage,
Lit up with song, then torn with cold, small rage,
Shames that are living, loves and hopes long dead,
Consuming pride, and hunger, real, for bread.

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The Santa-Fe Trail (A Humoresque)

© Vachel Lindsay

This is the order of the music of the morning: —
First, from the far East comes but a crooning.
The crooning turns to a sunrise singing.
Hark to the calm -horn, balm -horn, psalm -horn.
Hark to the faint -horn, quaint -horn, saint -horn. . . .

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A Sense of Humor

© Vachel Lindsay

NO man should stand before the moon
To make sweet song thereon,
With dandified importance,
His sense of humor gone.

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The Height of the Ridiculous

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

I WROTE some lines once on a time
In wondrous merry mood,
And thought, as usual, men would say
They were exceeding good.

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Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.

© Matthew Prior

My full design with vast expense achieved,
I came, beheld, admired, reflected, grieved:
I chid the folly of my thoughtless haste,
For, the work perfected, the joy was past.

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We Must Get Home

© James Whitcomb Riley

We must get home! How could we stray like this?--
So far from home, we know not where it is,--
Only in some fair, apple-blossomy place
Of children's faces--and the mother's face--
We dimly dream it, till the vision clears
Even in the eyes of fancy, glad with tears.

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The Jacquerie A Fragment

© Sidney Lanier

Chapter I.Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright
Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night,
And flamed, one brilliant instant, on the world,
Then back into the historic moat was hurled

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From The Flats.

© Sidney Lanier

What heartache -- ne'er a hill!
Inexorable, vapid, vague and chill
The drear sand-levels drain my spirit low.
With one poor word they tell me all they know;

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Ariel And Caliban

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

I.
Before PROSPERO'S cell. Moonlight.
ARIEL.
So — Prospero is gone — and I am free —

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Russian Sonia

© Edgar Lee Masters

I, born in Weimar
Of a mother who was French
And German father, a most learned professor,
Orphaned at fourteen years,

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Humoresque

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

   "Heaven bless the babe!" they said. 
   "What queer books she must have read!" 
   (Love, by whom I was beguiled, 
   Grant I may not bear a child.)