PETITION

Related poetry:

1. The Alchemist's Petition Thou wilt not sentence to eternal life My soul that prays that it may sleep and sleep Like a white statue dropped into the deep, Covered with sand, covered with chests of gold, And slave-bones, tossed from many a pirate hold. But for this prayer thou wilt not bind in Hell My soul, that shook […]...
2. The Petition for an Absolute Retreat Give me, O indulgent Fate! Give me yet before I die A sweet, but absolute retreat, ‘Mongst paths so lost and trees so high That the world may ne’er invade Through such windings and such shade My unshaken liberty. No intruders thither come Who visit but to be from home! None who their vain moments […]...
3. 185. The Humble Petition of Bruar Water MY lord, I know your noble ear Woe ne’er assails in vain; Embolden’d thus, I beg you’ll hear Your humble slave complain, How saucy Phoebus’ scorching beams, In flaming summer-pride, Dry-withering, waste my foamy streams, And drink my crystal tide. 1 The lightly-jumping, glowrin’ trouts, That thro’ my waters play, If, in their random, wanton […]...
4. 16-bit Intel 8088 chip with an Apple Macintosh You can’t run Radio Shack programs In its disc drive. Nor can a Commodore 64 Drive read a file You have created on an IBM Personal Computer. Both Kaypro and Osborne computers use The CP/M operating system But can’t read each other’s Handwriting For they format (write On) discs in different […]...
5. A Petition I pray to be the tool which to your hand Long use has shaped and moulded till it be Apt for your need, and, unconsideringly, You take it for its service. I demand To be forgotten in the woven strand Which grows the multi-coloured tapestry Of your bright life, and through its tissues lie A […]...
6. Mrs Frances Haris's Petition To their Excellencies the Lords Justices of Ireland, The humble petition of Frances Harris, Who must starve and die a maid if it miscarries; Humble sheweth, that I went to warm myself in Lady Betty’s chamber, because I Was cold; And I had in a purse seven pounds, four shillings, and sixpence, (besides Farthings) in […]...
7. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
8. Sonnet 04 – Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor, Most gracious singer of high poems! where The dancers will break footing, from the care Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more. And dost thou lift this house’s latch too poor For hand of thine? and canst thou think and bear To let thy music drop here […]...
9. Home Burial He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. She took a doubtful step and then undid it To raise herself and look again. He spoke Advancing toward her: ‘What is it you see From up there always for […]...
10. COMFORT IN TEARS How happens it that thou art sad, While happy all appear? Thine eye proclaims too well that thou Hast wept full many a tear. “If I have wept in solitude, None other shares my grief, And tears to me sweet balsam are, And give my heart relief.” Thy happy friends invite thee now, Oh come, […]...
11. Poor Poet ‘A man should write to please himself,’ He proudly said. Well, see his poems on the shelf, Dusty, unread. When he came to my shop each day, So peaked and cold, I’d sneak one of his books away And say ’twas sold. And then by chance he looked below, And saw a stack Of his […]...
12. GROWTH O’ER field and plain, in childhood’s artless days, Thou sprang’st with me, on many a spring-morn fair. “For such a daughter, with what pleasing care, Would I, as father, happy dwellings raise!” And when thou on the world didst cast thy gaze, Thy joy was then in household toils to share. “Why did I trust […]...
13. SHOULD E'ER THE LOVELESS DAY SHOULD e’er the loveless day remain Obscured by storms of hail and rain, Thy charms thou showest never; I tap at window, tap at door: Come, lov’d one, come! appear once more! Thou art as fair as ever! 1827.*...
14. THE CHOSEN CLIFF HERE in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one; Gladly he spake to me thus: “Be thou my witness, thou stone! Yet thou must not be vainglorious, thou hast many companions; Unto each rock on the plain, where I, the happy one, dwell, Unto each tree of the wood that I cling to, […]...
15. TO THE GRASSHOPPER AFTER ANACREON. [The strong resemblance of this fine poem to Cowley’s Ode bearing the same name, and beginning “Happy insect! What can be,” will be at once seen.] HAPPY art thou, darling insect, Who, upon the trees’ tall branches, By a modest draught inspired, Singing, like a monarch livest! Thou possessest as thy portion All […]...
16. Come down, O Maid COME down, O maid, from yonder mountain height: What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love […]...
17. Sonnet 92: But do thy worst to steal thy self away But do thy worst to steal thy self away, For term of life thou art assurèd mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, When in the least of them my life hath end; I […]...
18. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
19. To His Honoured and Most Ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Cotton For brave comportment, wit without offence, Words fully flowing, yet of influence: Thou art that man of men, the man alone, Worthy the public admiration: Who with thine own eyes read’st what we do write, And giv’st our numbers euphony, and weight. Tell’st when a verse springs high, how understood To be, or not born […]...
20. Sonnet XCII But do thy worst to steal thyself away, For term of life thou art assured mine, And life no longer than thy love will stay, For it depends upon that love of thine. Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, When in the least of them my life hath end. I see […]...
21. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
22. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
23. Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine So, now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I’ll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still. But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous, and he is kind, He learned but surety-like […]...
24. Sonnet 128: How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st, Upon that blessèd wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway’st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, […]...
25. Sonnet CXXXIV So, now I have confess’d that he is thine, And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I’ll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, For thou art covetous and he is kind; He learn’d but surety-like to […]...
26. Sonnet CXXVIII How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap, […]...
27. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls: Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city, And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea, Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark […]...
28. OLD AGE OLD age is courteous no one more: For time after time he knocks at the door, But nobody says, “Walk in, sir, pray!” Yet turns he not from the door away, But lifts the latch, and enters with speed. And then they cry “A cool one, indeed!” 1814....
29. MORNING LAMENT OH thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden, Tell me what great sin have I committed, That thou keep’st me to the rack thus fasten’d, That thou hast thy solemn promise broken? ‘Twas but yestere’en that thou with fondness Press’d my hand, and these sweet accents murmured: “Yes, I’ll come, I’ll come when morn approacheth, Come, my friend, […]...
30. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
31. This Window is This window is confidence, Documenting proceedings, Capturing moments, Cleansing views Challenging sentiment. This window is nourishment Filling the eyes With strong drink, And acidly piercing Over-elaborate structures. This window is furniture Re-hung like a picture, Recording new outlooks When the old pleases No more. This window is doorway To feelings, Good feelings and bad, All […]...
32. To The Spring Welcome, gentle Stripling, Nature’s darling thou! With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome now! Aha! and thou returnest, Heartily we greet thee The loving and the fair one, Merrily we meet thee! Think’st thou of my maiden In thy heart of glee? I love her yet, the maiden And the maiden yet loves […]...
33. Tцrnfallet There is a meadow in Sweden Where I lie smitten, Eyes stained with clouds’ White ins and outs. And about that meadow Roams my widow Plaiting a clover Wreath for her lover. I took her in marriage In a granite parish. The snow lent her whiteness, A pine was a witness. She’d swim in the […]...
34. Under Cover of Night To slip into your shadow under cover of night. To follow your footsteps, your shadow at the window. That shadow at the window is you and no one else; It’s you. Do not open that window behind whose curtains you’re moving. Shut your eyes. I’d like to shut them with my lips. But the window […]...
35. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
36. Anxiety The hoar-frost crumbles in the sun, The crisping steam of a train Melts in the air, while two black birds Sweep past the window again. Along the vacant road, a red Bicycle approaches; I wait In a thaw of anxiety, for the boy To leap down at our gate. He has passed us by; but […]...
37. I. THE PARIAH'S PRAYER DREADED Brama, lord of might! All proceed from thee alone; Thou art he who judgeth right! Dost thou none but Brahmins own? Do but Rajahs come from thee? None but those of high estate? Didst not thou the ape create, Aye, and even such as we? We are not of noble kind, For with woe […]...
38. Ode On A Grecian Urn Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What […]...
39. The Mole Said he: “I’ll dive deep in the Past, And write a book of direful days When summer skies were overcast With smoke of humble hearths ablaze; When War was rampant in the land, And poor folk cowered in the night, While ruin gaped on every hand – Of ravishing and wrath I’ll write.” Ten years […]...
40. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...