Work poems
/ page 12 of 355 /
The Pessimist
© Benjamin Franklin King
Nothing to do but work, Nothing to eat but food,Nothing to wear but clothes To keep one from going nude.
Unto this Last
© Julius Stanley de Vere Alexander
"UNTO this last" -- what is there in this WordShould so betray the grasping World and meThat any other meaning is prefer'dThan the plain truth, "This last as unto thee"?
Only a Working Girl
© Joussaye Marie
I know I am only a working girl, And I am not ashamed to sayI belong to the ranks of those who toil For a living, day by day
The Honest Working Man
© Joussaye Marie
As through the world we take our way How oftentimes we hearThe praises sung of wealthy men, Of prince, and duke and peer
Epigrams: To Lucy, Countess of Bedford, with John Donne's Satires
© Benjamin Jonson
Lucy, you brightness of our sphere, who areLife of the Muses' day, their morning star!If works, not th' author's, their own grace should look,Whose poems would not wish to be your book?But these, desir'd by you, the maker's endsCrown with their own
Epigrams: To John Donne
© Benjamin Jonson
Donne, the delight of Phoebus and each MuseWho, to thy one, all other brains refuse;Whose every work of thy most early witCame forth example, and remains so yet;Longer a-knowing than most wits do live;And which no affection praise enough can give!To it, thy language, letters, arts, best life,Which might with half mankind maintain a strife
Flint and Feather
© Emily Pauline Johnson
Ojistoh1.2Of him whose name breathes bravery and life1.3And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.1.4I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he1.5Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.
America
© Hovey Richard
We came to birth in battle; when we pass,It shall be to the thunder of the drums
The Flâneur
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I love all sights of earth and skies,From flowers that glow to stars that shine;The comet and the penny show,All curious things, above, below,Hold each in turn my wandering eyes:I claim the Christian Pagan's line,Humani nihil, -- even so, --And is not human life divine?
When soft the western breezes blow,And strolling youths meet sauntering maids,I love to watch the stirring tradesBeneath the Vallombrosa shadesOur much-enduring elms bestow;The vender and his rhetoric's flow,That lambent stream of liquid lies;The bait he dangles from his line,The gudgeon and his gold-washed prize
Why do I feel guilty in the lingerie department at The Bay
© Holbrook Susan
After all, I'm a woman, I'm old enough to look casual in here, I'm in my prime, in fact: why not try on a few things, discuss sizes and wires with the clerk like it's nothing, a bit of a chore even, like shopping for sneakers
St. Louis Blues
© Handy William Christopher
I hate to see de evening sun go downHate to see de evenin' sun go downCause ma baby he done lef dis town
Pascal's Wager
© Hall Kate
'If God does not exist, one will lose nothing by believing in him, whileif he does exist, one will lose everything by not believing.'-- Blaise Pascal
Going to Dover
© Whitney Adeline Dutton Train
"Leg over leg As the dog went to Dover;When he came to a stile, Jump he went over."
Pachelbel’s Canon
© Greene Richard
Is there a word or the fading of a noteas it leaves the string and nothing follows
Ordinary, Moving
© Gotlieb Phyllis
is the name of the gamelaughing, talking where the ball bouncesin the forgotten schoolyardone hand, the other hand; one foot, the other footyou know the one(Saturday Afternoon Kidblackball-cracker, scotchmint-muncherhandkerchief-chewer extraordinary)clap front, clap backballthwack on the boardfencefront and back, back and frontarms of old beeches reaching over drop theirsawtooth leaves in your hair (as I was sitting beneath a tree a birdie sent his love to me and as I wiped it from my eye I thought: thank goodness cows can't fly)tweedle, twydlecurtsey, saluteand roundaboutuntil you're out
the shadows turn, the light is longand while you're out you sing this song
this year, next year, sometime, never en roule-en ma boule roule-en we'll be friends for ever and ever
Pimperroquet, le roi des papillons se faisant la barbe, il se coupa le menton une, une, c'est la lune deux, deux, c'est le jeuseven, eight trois, trois -- c'est à toi!nine, a-lauraten a-laura echod, shtaimSecord hamelech bashomayim echod, shtaim, sholosh, ar-ba
