Just Think!

Related poetry:

1. Why Did I Laugh Tonight? No Voice Will Tell Why did I laugh tonight? No voice will tell: No God, no Demon of severe response, Deigns to reply from Heaven or from Hell. Then to my human heart I turn at once. Heart! Thou and I are here, sad and alone; I say, why did I laugh? O mortal pain! O Darkness! Darkness! ever […]...
2. The Damned My days are haunted by the thought Of men in coils of Justice caught With stone and steel, in chain and cell, Of men condemned to living hell, Yet blame them not. In my sun-joy their dark I see: For what they are and had to be Blame Nature, red in tooth and claw, Blame […]...
3. The Lost Master “And when I come to die,” he said, “Ye shall not lay me out in state, Nor leave your laurels at my head, Nor cause your men of speech orate; No monument your gift shall be, No column in the Hall of Fame; But just this line ye grave for me: ‘He played the game.'” […]...
4. A Toast to the Men Here’s to the men! Since Adam’s time They’ve always been the same; Whenever anything goes wrong, The woman is to blame. From early morn to late at night, The men fault-finders are; They blame us if they oversleep, Or if they miss a car. They blame us if, beneath the bed, Their collar buttons roll; […]...
5. Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away, Since basely bred, Proud Poetry, I dare to say, Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define My rôle in rhyme: Oh may I never […]...
6. Brave New World One spoke: “Come, let us gaily go With laughter, love and lust, Since in a century or so We’ll all be boneyard dust. When unborn shadows hold the screen, (Our betters, I’ll allow) ‘Twill be as if we’d never been, A hundred years from now. When we have played life’s lively game Right royally we’ll […]...
7. The Telegraph Operator I will not wash my face; I will not brush my hair; I “pig” around the place There’s nobody to care. Nothing but rock and tree; Nothing but wood and stone, Oh, God, it’s hell to be Alone, alone, alone! Snow-peaks and deep-gashed draws Corral me in a ring. I feel as if I was […]...
8. Refrain The air is dark, the night is sad, I lie sleepless and I groan. Nobody cares when a man goes mad: He is sorry, God is glad. Shadow changes into bone. Every shadow has a name; When I think of mine I moan, I hear rumors of such fame. Not for pride, but only shame, […]...
9. The Dream-Follower A dream of mine flew over the mead To the halls where my old Love reigns; And it drew me on to follow its lead: And I stood at her window-panes; And I saw but a thing of flesh and bone Speeding on to its cleft in the clay; And my dream was scared, and […]...
10. Divine Device Would it be loss or gain To hapless human-kind If we could feel no pain Of body or of mind? Would it be for our good If we were calloused so, And God in mercy should End all our woe? I wonder and I doubt: It is my bright belief We should be poor without […]...
11. Epitaph No matter how he toil and strive The fate of every man alive With luck will be to lie alone, His empty name cut in a stone. Grim time the fairest fame will flout, But though his name be blotted out, And he forgotten with his peers, His stone may wear a year of years. […]...
12. The Little Workgirl Three gentlemen live close beside me A painter of pictures bizarre, A poet whose virtues might guide me, A singer who plays the guitar; And there on my lintel is Cupid; I leave my door open, and yet These gentlemen, aren’t they stupid! They never make love to Babette. I go to the shop every […]...
13. Son He hurried away, young heart of joy, under our Devon sky! And I watched him go, my beautiful boy, and a weary woman was I. For my hair is grey, and his was gold; he’d the best of his life to live; And I’d loved him so, and I’m old, I’m old; and he’s all […]...
14. The Womb Up from the evil day Of wattle and of woad, Along man’s weary way Dark Pain has been the goad. Back from the age of stone, Within his brutish brain, What pleasure he has known Is ease from Pain. Behold in Pain the force That haled Man from the Pit, And set him such a […]...
15. The Widower For a season there must be pain For a little, little space I shall lose the sight of her face, Take back the old life again While She is at rest in her place. For a season this pain must endure, For a little, little while I shall sigh more often than smile Till time […]...
16. We say we say blame the teachers Don’t we send our young to school To be taught the simple rules For decent public-spirited behaviour Do we pay such crushing rates To have our children turned to louts We’re sick of all this fuss We say blame the teachers Or the preachers They’re all the same to us […]...
17. Independence Listen… Thud-thud Can you hear it? Thud-thud It’s the beat of my heart. Thud-thud I shall live on. Thud-thud My tortured soul Is not willing to rest. Thud-thud-thud This war has just begun. I’ve learned how to laugh In the face of evil now. Thud-thud-thud You can no longer hurt me, As long as I […]...
18. Does It Pay? If one poor burdened toiler o’er life’s road, Who meets us by the way, Goes on less conscious of his galling load, Then life, indeed, does pay. If we can show the troubled heart the gain That lies always in loss, Why, then, we too are paid for all the pain Of bearing life’s hard […]...
19. The Joy Of Little Things It’s good the great green earth to roam, Where sights of awe the soul inspire; But oh, it’s best, the coming home, The crackle of one’s own hearth-fire! You’ve hob-nobbed with the solemn Past; You’ve seen the pageantry of kings; Yet oh, how sweet to gain at last The peace and rest of Little Things! […]...
20. On Pain Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses Your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its Heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. And could you keep your heart in wonder at the Daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem Less […]...
21. Magdalen All things I can endure, save one. The bare, blank room where is no sun; The parcelled hours; the pallet hard; The dreary faces here within; The outer women’s cold regard; The Pastor’s iterated “sin”; These things could I endure, and count No overstrain’d, unjust amount; No undue payment for such bliss Yea, all things […]...
22. A Man Young And Old: VII. The Friends Of His Youth Laughter not time destroyed my voice And put that crack in it, And when the moon’s pot-bellied I get a laughing fit, For that old Madge comes down the lane, A stone upon her breast, And a cloak wrapped about the stone, And she can get no rest With singing hush and hush-a-bye; She that […]...
23. Room 7: The Coco-Fiend I look at no one, me; I pass them on the stair; Shadows! I don’t see; Shadows! everywhere. Haunting, taunting, staring, glaring, Shadows! I don’t care. Once my room I gain Then my life begins. Shut the door on pain; How the Devil grins! Grin with might and main; Grin and grin in vain; Here’s […]...
24. The Reply to Time O TIME, forgive the mournful song That on thy pinions stole along, When the rude hand of pain severe Chas’d down my cheek the burning tear; When sorrow chill’d each warm desire That kindles FANCY’S lambent fire; When HOPE, by fost’ring FRIENDSHIP rear’d, A phantom of the brain appear’d; Forgive the song, devoid of art, […]...
25. God's Battleground God dwells in you; in pride and shame, In all you do to blight or bless; In all you are of praise and blame, In beauty or in ugliness. “Divine Creation” – What a fraud! God did not make you. . . You make God. God lives in me, in all I feel Of love […]...
26. The Atavist What are you doing here, Tom Thorne, on the white top-knot o’ the world, Where the wind has the cut of a naked knife and the stars are rapier keen? Hugging a smudgy willow fire, deep in a lynx robe curled, You that’s a lord’s own son, Tom Thorne what does your madness mean? Go […]...
27. The Soldier Of Fortune “Deny your God!” they ringed me with their spears; Blood-crazed were they, and reeking from the strife; Hell-hot their hate, and venom-fanged their sneers, And one man spat on me and nursed a knife. And there was I, sore wounded and alone, I, the last living of my slaughtered band. Oh sinister the sky, and […]...
28. The Earth Falls Down If I could blame it all on the weather, The snow like the cadaver’s table, The trees turned into knitting needles, The ground as hard as a frozen haddock, The pond wearing its mustache of frost. If I could blame conditions on that, If I could blame the hearts of strangers Striding muffled down the […]...
29. Beak-Bashing Boy But yesterday I banked on fistic fame, Figgerin’ I’d be a champion of the Ring. Today I’ve half a mind to quit the Game, For all them rosy dreams have taken wing, Since last night a secondary bout I let a goddam nigger knock me out. It must have been that T-bone steak I ate; […]...
30. Vain Venture To have a business of my own With toil and tears, I wore my fingers to the bone For weary years. With stoic heart, for sordid gold In patient pain My life and liberty I sold For others gain. I scrimped and scraped, as cent by cent My savings grew; I found a faded shop […]...
31. Alone Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don’t believe I’m wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone. Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here […]...
32. A Rusty Nail I ran a nail into my hand, The wound was hard to heal; So bitter was the pain to stand I thought how it would feel, To have spikes thrust through hands and feet, Impaled by hammer beat. Then hoisted on a cross of oak Against the sullen sky, With all about the jeering follk […]...
33. Oh! Blame Not the Bard Oh! blame not the bard, if he fly to the bowers Where Pleasure lies, carelessly smiling at Fame; He was born for much more, and in happier hours His soul might have burn’d with a holier flame. The string, that now languishes loose o’er the lyre, Might have bent a proud bow to the warrior’s […]...
34. Ripe Fruit Through eyelet holes I watched the crowd Rain of confetti fling; Their joy is lush, their laughter loud, For Carnival is King. Behind his chariot I pace To ean my petty pay; They laugh to see my monster face: “Ripe Fruit,” I hear them say. I do not laugh: my shoulders sag; No heart have […]...
35. The Day is Done The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of […]...
36. Artist's Life Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote, Mad with melody, rhythm rife From the very first to the final note, Give me his “Artist’s Life!” It stirs my blood to my finger ends, Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest, And all that is sweetest and saddest blends Together within my breast. It […]...
37. Hap If but some vengeful god would call to me From up the sky, and laugh: “Thou suffering thing, Know that thy sorrow is my ecstasy, That thy love’s loss is my hate’s profiting!” Then would I bear it, clench myself, and die, Steeled by the sense of ire unmerited; Half-eased in that a Powerfuller than […]...
38. Soldier Boy My soldier boy has crossed the sea To fight the foeman; But he’ll come back to make of me And honest woman. So I am singing all day long, Despite blood-shedding; For though I know he’s done me wrong, We’ll end by wedding. My soldier boy is home again, So bold and scathless; But oh, […]...
39. MACTAVISH I do not write for love of pelf, Nor lust for phantom fame; I do not rhyme to please myself, Nor yet to win acclaim: No, strange to say it is my plan, What gifts I have, to lavish Upon a simple working man MACTAVISH. For that’s the rather smeary name, Of dreary toil a […]...
40. Robert William Service – Laughter I Laugh at Life: its antics make for me a giddy games, Where only foolish fellows take themselves with solemn aim. I laugh at pomp and vanity, at riches, rank and pride; At social inanity, at swager, swank and side. At poets, pastry-cooks and kings, at folk sublime and small, Who fuss about a thousand […]...