Falstaff's Lament Over Prince Hal Become Henry V

Related poetry:

1. The Funeral of the Late Prince Henry of Battenberg Alas! Prince Henry of Battenberg is dead! And, I hope, has gone to heaven, its streets to tread, And to sing with God’s saints above, Where all is joy and peace and love. ‘Twas in the year of 1896, and on the 5th of February, Prince Henry was buried at Whippingham – a solemn sight […]...
2. The Death of Prince Leopold Alas! noble Prince Leopold, he is dead! Who often has his lustre shed: Especially by singing for the benefit of Esher School, Which proves he was a wise prince. and no conceited fool. Methinks I see him on the platform singing the Sands o’ Dee, The generous-hearted Leopold, the good and the free, Who was […]...
3. Henry the Seventh Henry the Seventh of England Wasn’t out of the Royal top drawer, The only connection of which he could boast, He were King’s nephew’s brother-in-law. It were after the Wars of the Roses That he came to the front, as it were, When on strength of his having slain Richard the Third He put himself […]...
4. Dream Song 104: Welcome, grinned Henry, welcome, fifty-one! Welcome, grinned Henry, welcome, fifty-one! I never cared for fifty, when nothing got done. The hospitals were fun In certain ways, and an honour or so, But on the whole fifty was a mess as though Heavy clubs from below And from—God save the bloody mark—above Were loosed upon his skull & soles. O love, […]...
5. Dream Song 74: Henry hates the world. What the world to Henry Henry hates the world. What the world to Henry Did will not bear thought. Feeling no pain, Henry stabbed his arm and wrote a letter Explaining how bad it had been In this world. Old yellow, in a gown Might have made a difference, ‘these lower beauties’, And chartreuse could have mattered “Kyoto, Toledo, Benares—the […]...
6. An Ode, On The Death Of Mr. Henry Purcell Late Servant to his Majesty, and Organist of the Chapel Royal, and Of St. Peter’s Westminster I Mark how the Lark and Linnet Sing, With rival Notes They strain their warbling Throats, To welcome in the Spring. But in the close of Night, When Philomel begins her Heav’nly lay, They cease their mutual spite, Drink […]...
7. The Prince's Day Though dark are our sorrows, today we’ll forget them, And smile through our tears, like a sunbeam in showers: There never were hearts, if our rulers would let them, More form’d to be grateful and blest than ours. But just when the chain, Has ceased to pain, And hope has enwreathed it round with flowers, […]...
8. The Frog Prince Frau Doktor, Mama Brundig, Take out your contacts, Remove your wig. I write for you. I entertain. But frogs come out Of the sky like rain. Frogs arrive With an ugly fury. You are my judge. You are my jury. My guilts are what We catalogue. I’ll take a knife And chop up frog. Frog […]...
9. The Prince's Progress (excerpt) “Too late for love, too late for joy, Too late, too late! You loitered on the road too long, You trifled at the gate: The enchanted dove upon her branch Died without a mate. The enchanted princess in her tower Slept, died, behind the grate; Her heart was starving all this while You made it […]...
10. Snow White, to the Prince after Susan Thomas Truth is, my life was no fairytale, That afternoon, I lay, a smiling corpse Under a glass sky, a rotten apple Lodged in my throat like a black lump Of cancer, your sloppy kiss dying on my lips. Did you really believe a kiss could cure The poison galloping through my veins, […]...
11. Springfield Magical In this, the City of my Discontent, Sometimes there comes a whisper from the grass, “Romance, Romance – is here. No Hindu town Is quite so strange. No Citadel of Brass By Sinbad found, held half such love and hate; No picture-palace in a picture-book Such webs of Friendship, Beauty, Greed and Fate!” In this, […]...
12. 372. Song-Kellyburn Braes THERE lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi’ thyme; And he had a wife was the plague of his days, And the thyme it is wither’d, and rue is in prime. Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi’ thyme; […]...
13. The Song of O'Ruark, Prince of Breffni The valley lay smiling before me, Where lately I left her behind; Yet I trembled, and something hung o’er me, That sadden’d the joy of my mind. I look’d for the lamp which, she told me, Should shine when her Pilgrim return’d; But, though darkness began to infold me, No lamp from the battlements burn’d! […]...
14. The Story of Uriah Jack Barrett went to Quetta Because they told him to. He left his wife at Simla On three-fourths his monthly screw. Jack Barrett died at Quetta Ere the next month’s pay he drew. Jack Barrett went to Quetta. He didn’t understand The reason of his transfer From the pleasant mountain-land. The season was September, And […]...
15. Two Men (J. L. And R. B.) In the Northland there were three Pukka Pliers of the pen; Two of them had Fame in fee And were loud and lusty men; By them like a shrimp was I – Yet alas! they had to die. Jack was genius through and through. Who his future could foretell? What we sweated blood to do […]...
16. A PASTORAL UPON THE BIRTH OF PRINCE CHARLES:PRESENTED TO THE KING, AND SET BY MR NIC. LANIERE A PASTORAL UPON THE BIRTH OF PRINCE CHARLES: PRESENTED TO THE KING, AND SET BY MR NIC. LANIERE THE SPEAKERS: MIRTILLO, AMINTAS, AND AMARILLIS AMIN. Good day, Mirtillo. MIRT. And to you no less; And all fair signs lead on our shepherdess. AMAR. With all white luck to you. MIRT. But say, What news Stirs […]...
17. The Dream Said Will: “I’ll stay and till the land.” Said Jack: “I’ll sail the sea.” So one went forth kit-bag in hand, The other ploughed the lea. They met again at Christmas-tide, And wistful were the two. Said Jack: “you’re lucky here to bide.” Said Will: “I envy you.” “For in your eyes a light I […]...
18. Jack's Legacy The critic gushed and said, “Just like Jack, So raw, I never thought to see another writer just Like Kerouac!” Kerouac, who the fuck is he? A writer? Christ, that’s a laugh, compare me to a writer! Let’s face it I’m no hack, I’m not so much to look at either, But maybe Jack took […]...
19. A dull sound, varying now and again And then we began eating corn starch, Chalk chewed wet into sirup. We pilfered Argo boxes stored away to stiffen My white dress shirt, and my cousin And I played or watched TV, no longer annoyed By the din of never cooling afternoons. On the way home from church one fifth Sunday, Shirt outside my […]...
20. Community Garden I watch the man bend over his patch, A fat gunny sack at his feet. He combs the earth with his fingers, picks up pebbles around Tiny heads of sorrel. Clouds bruise in, clog the sky, the first fat drops pock-mark the dust. The man wipes his hands on his chest, opens the sack, pulls […]...
21. Taking His Chance They stood by the door of the Inn on the Rise; May Carney looked up in the bushranger’s eyes: ‘Oh! why did you come? it was mad of you, Jack; You know that the troopers are out on your track.’ A laugh and a shake of his obstinate head ‘I wanted a dance, and I’ll […]...
22. 182. The Libeller's Self-reproof RASH 1 mortal, and slanderous poet, thy name Shall no longer appear in the records of Fame; Dost not know that old Mansfield, who writes like the Bible, Says, the more ’tis a truth, sir, the more ’tis a libel! Note 1. These are rhymes of dubious authenticity.-Lang. [back]...
23. What the Ghost of the Gambler Said WHERE now the huts are empty, Where never a camp-fire glows, In an abandoned cañon, A Gambler’s Ghost arose. He muttered there, “The moon’s a sack Of dust.” His voice rose thin: “I wish I knew the miner-man. I’d play, and play to win. In every game in Cripple-creek Of old, when stakes were high, […]...
24. WELCOME HOME ‘Leeds welcomes you’ in flowers Garlanding the white stuccoed tower Of City Station: red on green As poetry’s demon seizes me, Upending all ordures of order. ‘Haworth Moor, Haworth Moor’ Echoes and re-echoes under the Dark Arches Where the Aire gurgles and swirls In eddies of Jack the Ripper, cloud-hopping Jumping Jack Flash but Jack’s […]...
25. Sackcloth I made sackcloth also my garment; and I became a proverb to them. They that sit in the gate speak against me; and I was the song of drunkards. Psalm 102 I made sackcloth my garment once, by cutting Arm and neck holes into a burlap bag. A croker sack they called it. Sackdragger They […]...
26. Crazy Jane And The Bishop Bring me to the blasted oak That I, midnight upon the stroke, (All find safety in the tomb.) May call down curses on his head Because of my dear Jack that’s dead. Coxcomb was the least he said: The solid man and the coxcomb. Nor was he Bishop when his ban Banished Jack the Journeyman, […]...
27. Lament Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I’ll make you little jackets; I’ll make you little trousers From his old pants. There’ll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the […]...
28. Lament When I was a windy boy and a bit And the black spit of the chapel fold, (Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women), I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood, The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit, I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled Nine-pin down on donkey’s common, […]...
29. Lament Where are those dazzling hills touched by the sun, Those crags in childhood that I used to climb? Hidden, hidden under mist is yonder mountain, Hidden is the heart. A day of cloud, a lifetime falls between, Gone are the heather moors and the pure stream, Gone are the rocky places and the green, Hidden, […]...
30. A Lament My thoughts hold mortal strife; I do detest my life, And with lamenting cries Peace to my soul to bring Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize: But he, grim grinning King, Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise, Late having decked with beauty’s rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and […]...
31. LAMENT How I loathe this land of my exile, Concrete upon concrete, Steel upon steel, Glass upon glass In massed battalions And no way back. My mind moves to a far-off place To a hill-top where the wind is my succour, Its blow and howl and rage Over the springing turf and heather Calms as the […]...
32. 104. The Lament O THOU pale orb that silent shines While care-untroubled mortals sleep! Thou seest a wretch who inly pines. And wanders here to wail and weep! With woe I nightly vigils keep, Beneath thy wan, unwarming beam; And mourn, in lamentation deep, How life and love are all a dream! I joyless view thy rays adorn […]...
33. Henry Mary and I were twenty-two When we were wed; A well-matched pair, right smart to view The town’s folk said. For twenty years I have been true To nuptial bed. But oh alas! The march of time, Life’s wear and tear! Now I am in my lusty prime With pep to spare, While she looks […]...
34. A Lament O World! O Life! O Time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more – Oh, never more! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight: Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar Move my faint […]...
35. The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies My son My son Let us always shuffle through the colour of the world Which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy We are too thin We have […]...
36. Lament for Eorl the Young Where now is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing? Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow; The days […]...
37. Lament (Whom will you cry to, heart?) Whom will you cry to, heart? More and more lonely, Your path struggles on through incomprehensible Mankind. All the more futile perhaps For keeping to its direction, Keeping on toward the future, Toward what has been lost. Once. You lamented? What was it? A fallen berry Of jubilation, unripe. But now the whole tree of […]...
38. Lament of the Frontier Guard By the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand, Lonely from the beginning of time until now! Trees fall, the grass goes yellow with autumn. I climb the towers and towers To watch out the barbarous land: Desolate castle, the sky, the wide desert. There is no wall left to this village. Bones white […]...
39. The Going of the Battery Wives. (Lament) I O it was sad enough, weak enough, mad enough – Light in their loving as soldiers can be – First to risk choosing them, leave alone losing them Now, in far battle, beyond the South Sea! . . . II – Rain came down drenchingly; but we unblenchingly Trudged on beside them through mirk […]...
40. 234. A Mother's Lament for her Son's Death FATE gave the word, the arrow sped, And pierc’d my darling’s heart; And with him all the joys are fled Life can to me impart. By cruel hands the sapling drops, In dust dishonour’d laid; So fell the pride of all my hopes, My age’s future shade. The mother-linnet in the brake Bewails her ravish’d […]...