Work poems
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On Mixed Pupils
© Robertson James
I wonder, to look on some commonplace Crass carcase in calm cow-hide,What on earth, if one could see through the case, The works are doing inside!
The Great and Little Weavers
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
The great and the little weavers,They neither rest nor sleep.They work in the height and the glory,They toil in the dark and the deep.
The Departing of Gluskâp
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
It is so long ago; and men well-nighForget what gladness was, and how the earthGave corn in plenty, and the rivers fish,And the woods meat, before he went away.His going was on this wise.
The Cow Pasture
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
I see the harsh, wind-ridden, eastward hill, By the red cattle pastured, blanched with dew; The small, mossed hillocks where the clay gets through;The grey webs woven on milkweed tops at will
White Flock
© Anna Akhmatova
Copyright Anna Akhmatova
Copyright English translation by Ilya Shambat (ilya_shambat@yahoo.com)
Origin: http://www.geocities.com/ilya_shambat/akhmatova.html
Iris Holden, District Nurse
© Reibetanz John
`Love's mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.'
Daily Bread
© Reibetanz John
We have cried often when we have given them the little victualling wehad to give them; we had to shake them, and they have fallen to sleepwith the victuals in their mouths many a time
The Contractor
© Reibetanz John
When God made me, there was a war on:Supplies were scarce, so He did it on the cheap.Oh, not that He produced a moronOr paraplegic by starving my fetal sleep --
Sestina Otiosa
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
Our great work, the Otia Merseiana,Edited by learned Mister Sampson,And supported by Professor Woodward,Is financed by numerous Bogus MeetingsHastily convened by Kuno MeyerTo impose upon the Man of Business
My Last Will
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
When I am safely laid away,Out of work and out of play,Sheltered by the kindly groundFrom the world of sight and sound,One or two of those I leaveWill remember me and grieve,Thinking how I made them gayBy the things I used to say;-- But the crown of their distressWill be my untidiness
The Artist
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
The Artist and his Luckless WifeThey lead a horrid haunted life,Surrounded by the things he's madeThat are not wanted by the trade.
December
© Radford Dollie
No gardener need go far to find The Christmas rose,The fairest of the flowers that mark The sweet Year's close:Nor be in quest of places where The hollies grow,Nor seek for sacred trees that hold The mistletoe
The Iliad, Book XII
© Alexander Pope
Furious he spoke, and rushing to the wall,Calls on his host; his host obey the call;With ardour follow where their leader flies:Redoubling clamours thunder in the skies
An Essay on Man: Epistle III
© Alexander Pope
Here then we rest: "The Universal CauseActs to one end, but acts by various laws
A Word From a Petitioner
© Pierpont John
What! our petitions spurned! The prayerOf thousands, -- tens of thousands, -- castUnheard, beneath your Speaker's chair!But ye will hear us, first or last
Bleinheim, a Poem
© Philips John
From low and abject themes the grov'ling museNow mounts aërial, to sing of armsTriumphant, and emblaze the martial actsOf Britain's hero; may the verse not sinkBeneath his merits, but detain a whileThy ear, O Harley, (though thy country's wealDepends on thee, though mighty Anne requiresThy hourly counsels) since with ev'ry artThy self adorn'd, the mean essays of youthThou wilt not damp, but guide, wherever found,The willing genius to the muses' seat:Therefore thee first, and last, the muse shall sing
Quia Multum Amavit
© John Payne
Just a drowned woman, with death-draggled hair And wan eyes, all a-stare;The weary limbs composed in ghastly rest, The hands together prest,Tight holding something that the flood has spared, Nor even the rough workhouse folk have dared To separate from her wholly, but untiedGently the knotted hands and laid it by her side
