Poet And Peer

Related poetry:

1. 499. Song-A Man's a Man for a' that IS there for honest Poverty That hings his head, an’ a’ that; The coward slave-we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that. Our toils obscure an’ a’ that, The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, The Man’s the gowd for a’ that. What though on hamely […]...
2. For a' that and a' that Is there, for honest Poverty That hings his head, and a’ that; The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, and a’ that, Our toils obscure, and a’ that, The rank is but the guinea’s stamp, The Man ‘s the gowd for a’ that. – What though […]...
3. 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 […]...
4. To A New England Poet Though skilled in Latin and in Greek, And earning fifty cents a week, Such knowledge, and the income, too, Should teach you better what to do: The meanest drudges, kept in pay, Can pocket fifty cents a day. Why stay in such a tasteless land, Where all must on a level stand, (Excepting people, at […]...
5. Poet's Path My garden hath a slender path With ivy overgrown, A secret place where once would pace A pot all alone; I see him now with fretted brow, Plunged deep in thought; And sometimes he would write maybe, And sometimes he would not. A verse a day he used to say Keeps worry from the door; […]...
6. Death Of A Poet Laid now on his smooth bed For the last time, watching dully Through heavy eyelids the day’s colour Widow the sky, what can he say Worthy of record, the books all open, Pens ready, the faces, sad, Waiting gravely for the tired lips To move once what can he say? His tongue wrestles to force […]...
7. The Pannikin Poet There’s nothing here sublime, But just a roving rhyme, Run off to pass the time, With nought titanic in. The theme that it supports, And, though it treats of quarts, It’s bare of golden thoughts It’s just a pannikin. I think it’s rather hard That each Australian bard Each wan, poetic card With thoughts galvanic […]...
8. A Minor Poet “What should such fellows as I do, Crawling between earth and heaven?” Here is the phial; here I turn the key Sharp in the lock. Click! there’s no doubt it turned. This is the third time; there is luck in threes Queen Luck, that rules the world, befriend me now And freely I’ll forgive you […]...
9. Shall I take thee, the Poet said Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried The Poet searched Philology And when about to ring For the suspended Candidate There came unsummoned in That portion of the Vision The Word applied to fill Not unto nomination The Cherubim reveal...
10. To A Poet Breaking Silence Too wearily had we and song Been left to look and left to long, Yea, song and we to long and look, Since thine acquainted feet forsook The mountain where the Muses hymn For Sinai and the Seraphim. Now in both the mountains’ shine Dress thy countenance, twice divine! From Moses and the Muses draw […]...
11. To a Dead Poet I knew not if to laugh or weep; They sat and talked of you “‘Twas here he sat; ’twas this he said! ‘Twas that he used to do. “Here is the book wherein he read, The room wherein he dwelt; And he” (they said) “was such a man, Such things he thought and felt.” I […]...
12. 153. Inscription for the Headstone of Fergusson the Poet NO 1 sculptured marble here, nor pompous lay, “No storied urn nor animated bust;” This simple stone directs pale Scotia’s way, To pour her sorrows o’er the Poet’s dust. ADDITIONAL STANZASShe mourns, sweet tuneful youth, thy hapless fate; Tho’ all the powers of song thy fancy fired, Yet Luxury and Wealth lay by in state, […]...
13. To A Poet That Died Young Minstrel, what have you to do With this man that, after you, Sharing not your happy fate, Sat as England’s Laureate? Vainly, in these iron days, Strives the poet in your praise, Minstrel, by whose singing side Beauty walked, until you died. Still, though none should hark again, Drones the blue-fly in the pane, Thickly […]...
14. Profane Poet Oh how it would enable me To titillate my vanity If you should choose to label me A Poet of Profanity! For I’ve been known with vulgar slang To stoke the Sacred Fire, And even used a word like ‘hang’, Suggesting ire. Yea, I’ve been slyly told, although It savours of inanity, In print the […]...
15. The Poet as Hero You’ve heard me, scornful, harsh, and discontented, Mocking and loathing War: you’ve asked me why Of my old, silly sweetness I’ve repented My ecstasies changed to an ugly cry. You are aware that once I sought the Grail, Riding in armour bright, serene and strong; And it was told that through my infant wail There […]...
16. The Poet Words flow onto paper like rain, forming giant rivers Of unseen lands. The very force guides us along a journey That holds of great adventure. We are the explorers of the literary world. We must find the courage to write what Others are unable to, with the greatest Of passion. A poet dreams. and then […]...
17. It Was an English Ladye Bright It was an English ladye bright, (The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) And she would marry a Scottish knight, For Love will still be lord of all. Blithely they saw the rising sun When he shone fair on Carlisle wall; But they were sad ere day was done, Though Love was still the lord […]...
18. Heritage Now the dead past seems vividly alive, And in this shining moment I can trace, Down through the vista of the vanished years, Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face. And suddenly some secret spring’s released, And unawares a riddle is revealed, And I can read like large, black-lettered print, What seemed before a thing […]...
19. Sex With A Famous Poet I had sex with a famous poet last night And when I rolled over and found myself beside him I shuddered Because I was married to someone else, Because I wasn’t supposed to have been drinking, Because I was in fancy hotel room I didn’t recognize. I would have told you Right off this was […]...
20. Said The Poet To The Analyst My business is words. Words are like labels, Or coins, or better, like swarming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; As if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, Unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget who one words is able […]...
21. Robert Burns Immortal Robert Burns of Ayr, There’s but few poets can with you compare; Some of your poems and songs are very fine: To “Mary in Heaven” is most sublime; And then again in your “Cottar’s Saturday Night,” Your genius there does shine most bright, As pure as the dewdrops of the night. Your “Tam O’Shanter” […]...
22. He came unto His own, and His own received Him not As Christ the Lord was passing by, He came, one night, to a cottage door. He came, a poor man, to the poor; He had no bed whereon to lie. He asked in vain for a crust of bread, Standing there in the frozen blast. The door was locked and bolted fast. ‘Only a beggar!’ […]...
23. Thaw OVER the land half freckled with snow half-thawed The speculating rooks at their nests cawed, And saw from elm-tops, delicate as a flower of grass, What we below could not see, Winter pass....
24. On The Boulevard Oh, it’s pleasant sitting here, Seeing all the people pass; You beside your bock of beer, I behind my demi-tasse. Chatting of no matter what. You the Mummer, I the Bard; Oh, it’s jolly, is it not? Sitting on the Boulevard. More amusing than a book, If a chap has eyes to see; For, no […]...
25. Lord, what a Beloved is mine! Lord, what a Beloved is mine! I have a sweet quarry; I possess In my breast a hundred meadows from his reed. When in anger the messenger comes and repairs towards me, He says, “Whither are you fleeing? I have business with you.” Last night I asked the new moon concerning my Moon. The Moon […]...
26. A Minor Poet I am a shell. From me you shall not hear The splendid tramplings of insistent drums, The orbed gold of the viol’s voice that comes, Heavy with radiance, languorous and clear. Yet, if you hold me close against the ear, A dim, far whisper rises clamorously, The thunderous beat and passion of the sea, The […]...
27. A Poet's Death is His Life IV The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. Sonnet 17 – My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes God set between his After and Before, And strike up and strike off the general roar Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats In a serene air purely. Antidotes Of medicated music, answering for Mankind’s forlornest uses, thou canst pour From thence into their ears. […]...
30. Sardis (Revelations, iii. 1-6) “Write to Sardis,” saith the Lord, “And write what He declares, He whose Spirit, and whose word, Upholds the seven stars: All thy works and ways I search, Find thy zeal and love decay’d; Thou art call’d a living church, But thou art cold and dead. “Watch, remember, seek, and strive, Exert […]...
31. Psalm 19 part 2 God’s word most excellent; or, Sincerity and watchfulness. For a Lord’s-day morning. Behold, the morning sun Begins his glorious way; His beams through all the nations run, And life and light convey. But where the gospel comes It spreads diviner light; It calls dead sinners from their tombs, And gives the blind their sight. How […]...
32. Golden Silence I told her I loved her and begged but a word, One dear little word, that would be For me by all odds the most sweet ever heard, But never a word said she! I raged at her then, and I said she was cold; I swore she was nothing to me; I prayed her […]...
33. Mother and Poet I. Dead! One of them shot by the sea in the east, And one of them shot in the west by the sea. Dead! both my boys! When you sit at the feast And are wanting a great song for Italy free, Let none look at me! II. Yet I was a poetess only last […]...
34. The Poet's Forge He lies on his back, the idling smith, A lazy, dreaming fellow is he; The sky is blue, or the sky is gray, He lies on his back the livelong day, Not a tool in sight, say what they may, A curious sort of smith is he. The powers of the air are in league […]...
35. Poet As Fisherman I fish for words To say what I fish for, Half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight (yellow perch, crappies, blue-gills), Lighthearted reeled them in, Filed them on stringers on the shore. A nice mess, we called them, And ate with our fingers, laughing. Once, dreaming of fish in far-off waters, I […]...
36. Alone And Drinking Under The Moon Amongst the flowers I Am alone with my pot of wine Drinking by myself; then lifting My cup I asked the moon To drink with me, its reflection And mine in the wine cup, just The three of us; then I sigh For the moon cannot drink, And my shadow goes emptily along With me […]...
37. Psalm 48 part 2 v.10-14 S. M. The beauty of the church; or, Gospel worship and order. Far as thy name is known, The world declares thy praise; Thy saints, O Lord, before thy throne, Their songs of honor raise. With joy let Judah stand On Zion’s chosen hill, Proclaim the wonders of thy hand, And counsels of thy […]...
38. Critic and Poet: an Epilogue No man had ever heard a nightingale, When once a keen-eyed naturalist was stirred To study and define what is a bird, To classify by rote and book, nor fail To mark its structure and to note the scale Whereon its song might possibly be heard. Thus far, no farther; so he spake the word. […]...
39. A Tale of the Miser and the Poet A WIT, transported with Inditing, Unpay’d, unprais’d, yet ever Writing; Who, for all Fights and Fav’rite Friends, Had Poems at his Fingers Ends; For new Events was still providing; Yet now desirous to be riding, He pack’d-up ev’ry Ode and Ditty And in Vacation left the City; So rapt with Figures, and Allusions, With secret […]...
40. Careers I knew three sisters, all were sweet; Wishful to wed was I, And wondered which would mostly meet The matrimonial tie. I asked the first what fate would she Wish joy of life to bring to her. She answered: ‘I would like to be A concert singer.’ I asked the second, for my mind Was […]...