Money poems
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The Pardoner's Introduction, Prologue, and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 195r}}¶The myry talkyng/ of the hoo{s}t/ to the Phi{s}cienOure hoo{s}t gan to swere / as he were woodHarrow quod he / by nayles and by bloodThis was a fals cherl / and a fals Iu{s}ti{s}eAs shameful deeth / as herte may deuy{s}eCome to thi{s}e Iuges / and hir aduocatzAlgate this sely mayde / is slayn allasAllas / to deere boghte she beauteeWherfore I seye alday /
þt
men may {s}eThat yiftes of ffortune / and of natureBeen cau{s}e of deeth / to many a creatureOf bothe yiftes /
þt
The General Prologue from the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales
© Geoffrey Chaucer
{{Folio 2r}}Here bygynneth the Book{/} of the tales of Can
ter
buryWhan that Aueryll
with
Namby-Pamby: or, A Panegyric on the New Versification
© Henry Carey
Nauty Pauty Jack-a-DandyStole a Piece of Sugar-Candy,From the Grocer's Shoppy-shop,And away did hoppy-hop.
The Rubaiyat of Omar Cayenne
© Gelett Burgess
WAKE! For the Hack can scatter into flightShakespere and Dante in a single Night! The Penny-a-liner is Abroad, and strikesOur Modern Literature with blithering Blight.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin: A Child's Story
© Robert Browning
(Written for, and inscribed to, W. M. the Younger)
Six Years Later
© Joseph Brodsky
So long had life together been that nowthe second of January fell againon Tuesday, making her astonished browlift like a windshield wiper in the rain, so that her misty sadness cleared, and showed a cloudless distance waiting up the road
Where the Dead Men Lie
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Out on the wastes of the Never Never-- That's where the dead men lie!There where the heat-waves dance for ever-- That's where the dead men lie!That's where the Earth's loved sons are keepingEndless tryst: not the west wind sweepingFeverish pinions can wake their sleeping-- Out where the dead men lie!
Where brown Summer and Death have mated-- That's where the dead men lie!Loving with fiery lust unsated-- That's where the dead men lie!Out where the grinning skulls bleach whitelyUnder the saltbush sparkling brightly;Out where the wild dogs chorus nightly-- That's where the dead men lie!
Deep in the yellow, flowing river-- That's where the dead men lie!Under the banks where the shadows quiver-- That's where the dead men lie!Where the platypus twists and doubles,Leaving a train of tiny bubbles;Rid at last of their earthly troubles-- That's where the dead men lie!
East and backward pale faces turning-- That's how the dead men lie!Gaunt arms stretched with a voiceless yearning-- That's how the dead men lie!Oft in the fragrant hush of nooningHearing again their mothers' crooning,Wrapt for aye in a dreamful swooning-- That's how the dead men lie!
Only the hand of Night can free them-- That's when the dead men fly!Only the frightened cattle see them-- See the dead men go by!Cloven hoofs beating out one measure,Bidding the stockman know no leisure--That's when the dead men take their pleasure! That's when the dead men fly!
Ask, too, the never-sleeping drover: He sees the dead pass by;Hearing them call to their friends--the plover, Hearing the dead men cry;Seeing their faces stealing, stealing,Hearing their laughter pealing, pealing,Watching their grey forms wheeling, wheeling Round where the cattle lie!
Strangled by thirst and fierce privation-- That's how the dead men die!Out on Moneygrub's farthest station-- That's how the dead men die!Hardfaced greybeards, youngsters callow;Some mounds cared for, some left fallow;Some deep down, yet others shallow; Some having but the sky
How Polly Paid for her Keep
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
Do I know Polly Brown? Do I know her? Why, damme!You might as well ask if I know my own name!It's a wonder you never heard tell of old Sammy,Her father, my mate in the Crackenback claim.
Fatigued
© Hilaire Belloc
I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.But Money gives me pleasure all the time.
Frankie and Johnnie
© Anonymous
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,O, my Gawd, how they could love,They swore to be true to each other,As true as the stars above; He was her man, but he done her wrong.
The Rancho In The Rain
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
The rabbit's ears are flattened and he's squattin' scared and still,
Ag'inst the dripping cedar; and the quail below the hill
The Peonage System
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
The religious wars of Europe have been numbered with the past,
But a worse thing, bright America with clouds has overcast,
'Tis the heinous contract system that plantation life contains,
Worse than slavery's conditions in a land where freedom reigns.
The Net-Menders
© Sylvia Plath
Halfway up from the little harbor of sardine boats,
Halfway down from groves where the thin, bitter almond pips
Fatten in green-pocked pods, the three net-menders sit out,
Dressed in black, everybody in mourning for someone.
They set their stout chairs back to the road and face the dark
Dominoes of their doorways.
Ho! Everyone That Thirsts, Draw Nigh
© Charles Wesley
Ho! every one that thirsts, draw nigh!
('Tis God invites the fallen race)
Mercy and free salvation buy;
Buy wine, and milk, and gospel grace.
Sphinx-Money
© Mathilde Blind
To find Sphinx-money. So the Beduin calls
Small fossils of the waste. Nay, poet's gold;
'Twill give thee entrance to those rites of old,
When hundred-gated Thebes, with storied walls,
Gleamed o'er her Plain, and vast processions rolled
To Amon-Ra through Karnak's pillared halls.
Squire Hawkins's Story
© James Whitcomb Riley
He sized it all; and Patience laid
Her hand in John's, and looked afraid,
And waited. And a stiller set
O' folks, I KNOW, you never met
In any court room, where with dread
They wait to hear a verdick read.
