Tag: poem
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Eight o’ Clock
He stood, and heard the steeple Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town. One, two, three, four, to market-place and people It tossed them down. Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck; And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck. A.E Housman
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At The Round Earth’s Imagin’d Corners
At the round earth’s imagin’d corners, blow Your trumpets, Angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scatter’d bodies go, All whom the flood did, and fire shall o’erthrow All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes, Shall behold God, and…
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Death Be Not Proud
Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so, For those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow, And soonest…
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The nymph’s reply to the shepherd
By Sir Walter Raleigh If all the world and love were young, And truth in every shepherds tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee and be thy love. Time drives the flocks from field to fold, When rivers rage and rocks grow cold, And Philomel becometh dumb; The rest complain of…
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The passionate shepherd to his love
Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That hills and valleys, dales and fields, And all the craggy mountain yields. There we will sit upon the rocks, And we will see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And…
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To the virgins, to make much of time
Gather ye rose Rose-buds while ye may, Old time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying. The glorious Lamp Of Heaven, the Sun, The higher he’s a-getting; The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he’s to setting. That Age is best, which is the first, When…
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My True Love Hath My Heart
My true love hath my heart and I have his, By just exchange one for another given; I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven. My true love hath my heart and I have his. His heart in me keeps him and me in one, My heart…
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The Wild Doves At Louis Trichardt
As a proud South African, it gives me great joy to share with you this poem written about my homeland, in fact in one of the most beautiful places here, Limpopo. Enjoy. Morning is busy with long files Of ants and men, all bearing loads. The sun’s gong beats, and sweat runs down. A mason-hornet…
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Joining The Poetry Racket
There are a lot of poets out there, apparently everyone is a poet, on some level. So I thought, if this is the flavor of the week, lets take a taste shall we? With that here is my entry for poem of the week! Roses are red Violets are blue I see the likes Your…
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UW – “…Free as the hurricane…”
Lo! In the mute, mid wilderness, What wondrous creature? – of no kind! – His burning lair doth largely press – Gaze fixt – and feeding on the wind? From his stately forehead springs Piercing to heaven, a radiant horn, – Lo! The compeer of lion-kings! The steer self-armed, the Unicorn! Ever heard of, never…
THE NECROMANCER 