Pet poems

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Dead!

© Alfred Austin

Hush! or you'll wake her. Softly tread!
She slumbers in her little bed.
What do I see? A coffin! Dead?
Yes, dead at break of morning.

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The Bishop of Rum-Ti-Foo

© William Schwenck Gilbert

From east and south the holy clan

Of Bishops gathered to a man;

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More Strong Than Time

© Victor Marie Hugo

Since I have set my lips to your full cup, my sweet,

Since I my pallid face between your hands have laid,

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But The Artist...

© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms

But the artist sat the nude model on the table and moved her legs apart. The girl hardly resisted and merely covered her face with her hands.

Amonova and Strakhova said that first the girl should have been taken off to the bathroom and washed between her legs, as any whiff of such an aroma was simply repulsive.

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Lines II

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

YE cannot add by any pile ye raise,
One jot or tittle to the statesman's fame;
That the world knows; to the far future days
Belongs his glory, and its radiant flame

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D'Iberville

© Nérée Beauchemin

Dans un trombe de fumée
Que des éclairs intermittents
Font paraître tout enflammée,
S'entrechoquent les combattants.

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A Cloud In Trousers - part II

© Vladimir Mayakovsky

Glorify me!
For me the great are no match.
Upon every achievement
I stamp nihil

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The Modest Couple

© William Schwenck Gilbert

When man and maiden meet, I like to see a drooping eye,
I always droop my own - I am the shyest of the shy.
I'm also fond of bashfulness, and sitting down on thorns,
For modesty's a quality that womankind adorns.

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Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto I.

© Matthew Prior

Without these aids, to be more serious,
Her power they hold had been precarious;
The eyes might have conspired her ruin,
And she not known what they were doing.
Foolish it had been and unkind
That they should see and she be blind.

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A Marriage

© Eli Siegel

An auto going south, and words in a room,
And outside, pink of May, white of June, brown of September,
white of December.
3.

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The Ballad Of Boh Da Thone

© Rudyard Kipling

This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone,
 Erst a Pretender to Theebaw's throne,
 Who harried the district of Alalone:
 How he met with his fate and the V.P.P.
 At the hand of Harendra Mukerji,
 Senior Gomashta, G.B.T.

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Another

© Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Tis a moon-tinted primrose, with a well

Of trembling dew; in its soft atmosphere,

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What We Must Do

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

What we must do and may not do.

This is the World's whole refrain,

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A Letter to Louise

© John Reed



Rainy rush of bird-song

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Aneurin's Harp

© George Meredith

I

Prince of Bards was old Aneurin;

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For Ever

© Henry Kendall

OUT of the body for ever,
  Wearily sobbing, “Oh, whither?”
A Soul that hath wasted its chances
  Floats on the limitless ether.

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St. George

© Emile Verhaeren

Opening the mists on a sudden through,
An Avenue!
Then, all one ferment of varied gold,
With foam of plumes where the chamfrom bends
Round his horse's head, that no bit doth hold,
St. George descends!

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The Sailor Boy to His Lass

© William Schwenck Gilbert

I go away this blessed day,

To sail across the sea, MATILDA!

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The Child Of The Islands - Opening

© Caroline Norton

I.
OF all the joys that brighten suffering earth,
What joy is welcomed like a new-born child?
What life so wretched, but that, at its birth,

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The Convocation: A Poem

© Richard Savage


The Pagan prey on slaughter'd Wretches Fates,
The Romish fatten on the best Estates,
The British stain what Heav'n has right confest,
And Sectaries the Scriptures falsly wrest.