Money poems
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The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy
© Richard Harris Barham
With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'
Out At Pelletier's
© Edgar Albert Guest
OUT at Pelletier's where the blooded pigeons fly,
An' the tony Shetland ponies romp and play,
Tale XX
© George Crabbe
flown:
All swept away, to be perceived no more,
Like idle structures on the sandy shore,
The chance amusement of the playful boy,
That the rude billows in their rage destroy.
Poor George confess'd, though loth the truth to
The Red Box at Vesey Street
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
Past the Red Box at Vesey street
Swing two strong tides of hurrying feet,
And up and down and all the day
Rises a sullen roar, to say
The Heir Of Lynne
© Andrew Lang
Of all the lords in faire Scotland
A song I will begin:
Amongst them all dwelled a lord
Which was the unthrifty Lord of Lynne.
Cast Away Care
© Thomas Dekker
Cast away care; he that loves sorrow
Lengthens not a day, nor can buy to-morrow ;
Money is trash, and he that will spend it,
Let him drink merrily, fortune will send it.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, oh, ho !
Play it off stiffly, we may not part so.
Who Is Your Boss?
© Edgar Albert Guest
"I work for someone else," he said;
"I have no chance to get ahead.
The Borough. Letter V: The Election
© George Crabbe
YES, our Election's past, and we've been free,
Somewhat as madmen without keepers be;
You Men
© Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
(Español)
Hombres necios que acusáis
a la mujer sin razón,
sin ver que sois la ocasión
de lo mismo que culpáis:
The Loving Shepherdess
© Robinson Jeffers
She dreamed that a two-legged whiff of flame
Rose up from the house gable-peak crying, "Oh! Oh!"
And doubled in the middle and fled away on the wind
Like music above the bee-hives.
Hell's Pavement
© John Masefield
When Im discharged at Liverpool n draws my bit o pay,
I wont come to sea no more;
Happiness
© Edgar Albert Guest
If he sunbeams will not start you to rejoicing,
If the laughter of your babies you can hear
Leaving the Matter Open: A Tale By Homer Wilbur, A.M.
© James Russell Lowell
Meanwhile, South's swine increasing fast;
His farm became too small at last;
So, having thought the matter over,
And feeling bound to live in clover
And never pay the clover's worth,
He said one day to Brother North:--
Hermann And Dorothea - II. Terpsichore
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is
My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter
I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."
