Work poems
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The Death of the Ox
© McLachlan Alexander
And thou art gone, my poor dumb friend! thy troubles all are past;A faithful friend thou wert indeed, e'en to the very last!And thou wert the prop of my house, my children's pride and pet,--Who now will help to free me from this weary load of debt?
Here, single-handed, in the bush I battled on for years,My heart sometimes buoyed up with hope, sometimes bowed down with fears
Reunion
© McGimpsey David
What is my news? Well, since graduating,I've raked it in and I've tossed it off,I've plucked the green peach and sodded the pitch
[There is no God, as I was taught in youth...]
© John Masefield
There is no God, as I was taught in youth,Though each, according to his stature, buildsSome covered shrine for what he thinks the truth,Which day by day his reddest heart-blood gilds
The River
© John Masefield
All other waters have their time of peace.Calm, or the turn of tide or summer drought;But on these bars the tumults never cease,In violent death this river passes out.
The Blacksmith
© John Masefield
The blacksmith in his sparky forge,Beat on the white-hot softness there;Even as he beat he sang an airTo keep the sparks out of his gorge.
The Wind Our Enemy
© Marriott Anne
Windflattening its gaunt furious self againstthe naked siding, knifing in the woundsof time, pausing to tear aside the lastold scab of paint.
Protest of a Young Intellectual
© Marquis Donald Robert Perry
God never plucks me by the sleeve And begs for my advice,And since He doesn't all His works Leave me cold as ice.
Mind your Knitting
© Linton William James
Lucy! mind your knitting: Blind as I may be,I am certain you're not sitting At your work by me
How they Brought the News to a Gent
© Linton William James
Bob Browning and Timothy Titcombe and MeHad to take him the news: I was boss of the three,For I strode a donkey, they stump'd
Wages
© David Herbert Lawrence
The wages of work is cash.The wages of cash is want more cash.The wages of want more cash is vicious competition.The wages of vicious competition is -- the world we live in.
Salve Deus Rex Iudæorum
© Lanyer Æmilia
Now Pontius Pilate is to judge the CauseOf faultlesse Jesus, who before him stands;Who neither hath offended Prince, nor Lawes,Although he now be brought in woefull bands:O noble Governour, make thou yet a pause,Doe not in innocent blood imbrue thy hands; But heare the words of thy most worthy wife, Who sends to thee, to beg her Sauiours life
Zimbabwe
© Andrew Lang
INTO the darkness whence they came, They passed -- their country knoweth none,They and their gods without a name Partake the same oblivion
The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond
© Andrew Lang
THERE's an ending o' the dance, and fair Morag's safe in France,And the Clans they hae paid the lawing,And the wuddy has her ain, and we twa are left alane,Free o' Carlisle gaol in the dawing.
Fæsulan Idyl
© Walter Savage Landor
Here, where precipitate Spring with one light boundInto hot Summer's lusty arms expires;And where go forth at morn, at eve, at night,Soft airs, that want the lute to play with them,And softer sighs, that know not what they want;Under a wall, beneath an orange-treeWhose tallest flowers could tell the lowlier onesOf sights in Fiesole right up above,While I was gazing a few paces offAt what they seemed to show me with their nods,Their frequent whispers and their pointing shoots,A gentle maid came down the garden-stepsAnd gathered the pure treasure in her lap
The Obstructionist
© Knox Edmund George Valpy
She was not built upon a beauteous plan; I did not like her face or features much,The lady who was talking to the man Behind the little hutch.
McAndrew's Hymn
© Rudyard Kipling
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always Steam
