Work poems
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The Grave
© Jean Blewett
O the grave is a quiet place, my dear, So still and so quiet by night and by day,Reached by no sound either joyous or drear, But keeping its silence alway, alway.
In The Evening By The Moonlight
© Bland James A.
In de ebening by de moonlight when dis darkie's work was over,We would gather round de fire, 'till hoecake it was done
Brazil, January 1, 1502
© Elizabeth Bishop
Januaries, nature greets our eyesexactly as she must have greeted theirs:every square inch filling in with foliage--big leaves, little leaves, and giant leaves,blue, blue-green, and olive,with occasional lighter veins and edges,or a satin underleaf turned over;monster fernsin silver-gray relief,and flowers, too, like giant water liliesup in the air--up, rather, in the leaves--purple, yellow, two yellows, pink,rust red and greenish white;solid but airy; fresh as if just finishedand taken off the frame
Visualization of Marxism
© Bell Julian Heward
Expose the world, anatomize,Strip clothes from skin, strip skin, then flesh, from bone
London I
© Bell Julian Heward
The melancholy verse Sings to the waterfall; Wring writing harsh and worse, The jarring beauties fall.
Written for my Son, and Spoken by Him at his First Putting on Breeches
© Mary Barber
WHAT is it our mamma's bewitches,To plague us little boys with breeches ?To tyrant Custom we must yield,Whilst vanquish'd Reason flies the field
An Inventory of the Furniture in Dr. Priestley's Study
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
A map of every country known,With not a foot to call his own
The Caterpillar
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
No, helpless thing, I cannot harm thee now;Depart in peace, thy little life is safe,For I have scanned thy form with curious eye,Noted the silver line that streaks thy back,The azure and the orange that divideThy velvet sides; thee, houseless wanderer,My garment has enfolded, and my armFelt the light pressure of thy hairy feet;Thou hast curled round my finger; from its tip,Precipitous descent! with stretched out neck,Bending thy head in airy vacancy,This way and that, inquiring, thou hast seemedTo ask protection; now, I cannot kill thee
Notes towards a Poem that can never be Written
© Margaret Atwood
This is the placeyou would rather not know about,this is the place that will inhabit you,this is the place you cannot imagine,this is the place that will finally defeat you
Work While it is Day
© Askham John
"Work while it is yet day, for the night cometh on when no man can work."
Stay with Me, God
© Anonymous
Stay with me, God. The night is dark,The night is cold: my little sparkOf courage dies. The night is long;Be with me, God, and make me strong.
The Seafarer
© Anonymous
Mæg ic be me sylfum soðgied wrecan, [I can utter a true tale about myself,]siþas secgan, hu ic geswincdagum [tell of my travels, how in laboursome days]earfoðhwile oft þrowade, [a time of hardship I often suffered,]bitre breostceare gebiden hæbbe, [how bitter sorrow in my breast I have borne,]gecunnad in ceole cearselda fela, [made trial on shipboard of many sorrowful abodes; ]atol yþa gewealc, þær mec oft bigeat [dread was the rolling of the waves; there my task was often]nearo nihtwaco æt nacan stefnan, [the hard night-watch at the boat's prow,]þonne he be clifum cnossað
Ode
© Joseph Addison
The spacious firmament on high,With all the blue ethereal sky,And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame,Their great original proclaim:Th' unwearied Sun, from day to day,Does his Creator's power display,And publishes to every landThe work of an Almighty Hand
The Campaign
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign
