Wish poems/ page 7 of 92 /
To Dr. Sherlock, On His Practical Discourse Concerning Death
© Matthew Prior
Forgive the muse who, in unhallow'd strains,
The saint one moment from his God detains;
In A 'Bus.
© James Brunton Stephens
A QUARTER of a century agone,
Just such a face as this upon me shone,
Ode to Rae Wilson Esq.
© Thomas Hood
Mere verbiage,it is not worth a carrot!
Why, Socratesor Platowhere's the odds?
Once taught a jay to supplicate the Gods,
And made a Polly-theist of a Parrot!
The Princess (part 6)
© Alfred Tennyson
My dream had never died or lived again.
As in some mystic middle state I lay;
Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard:
Though, if I saw not, yet they told me all
So often that I speak as having seen.
The four Seasons of the Year.
© Anne Bradstreet
Another four I've left yet to bring on,
A Close Finish
© Jessie Pope
["A marriage is arranged between Miss Diana Dashington and Lord Broadacres."]
The race of the season is over ;
The Progress Of Marriage
© Jonathan Swift
So have I seen within a pen,
Young ducklings fostered by a hen;
But when let out, they run and muddle,
As instinct leads them, in a puddle;
The sober hen, not born to swim,
With mournful note clucks round the brim.
The Symptoms of Love
© William Cowper
Would my Delia know if I love, let her take
My last thought at night, and the first when I wake;
With my prayers and best wishes preferred for her sake.
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
See dis pictyah in my han'?
Dat's my gal;
© John Clare
Dear brother robin this comes from us all
With our kind love and could Gip write and all
© Edith Nesbit
Dear Hubert, if I ever found
A wishing-carpet lying round,
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels'
hierarchies? and even if one of them suddenly
How John Quit The Farm
© James Whitcomb Riley
Nobody on the old farm here but Mother, me and John,
Except, of course, the extry he'p when harvest-time come on--
And then, I want to say to you, we _needed_ he'p about,
As you'd admit, ef you'd a-seen the way the crops turned out!
Song of the Guitar.
© Bai Juyi
In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem - six hundred and twelve characters.
I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,
Song: "Fair Delia while each sighing swain "
© Henry James Pye
Fair Delia while each sighing swain
Whose heart your charms adores,
The Old Sexton
© William Henry Drummond
I know very well t'was purty hard case
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place
Dan village of Cote St. Paul,
But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more
Wit' de blacksmit' shop an' two fine store
Not to speak of de church an' de city hall.
Aurora Leigh: Book Fourth
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
She, at that,
Looked blindly in his face, as when one looks
Through driving autumn-rains to find the sky.
He went on speaking.
The Ghost at the Second Bridge
© Henry Lawson
You'd call the man a senseless fool,
A blockhead or an ass,
I Was Dead
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
i was dead
i came alive
i was tears
i became laughter
To The Christian Reader
© Michael Wigglesworth
Reader, I am a fool;
And have adventured