Fashionable Blue Shorts Being Worn on Rocks Man
We present to your attention a option of laconic poems past famous English language and American poets. The poems will open the world of prissy, tender feelings and philosophical outlook on life, vivid cheerful jokes and witty English humor to you. Brusk poems are easy to read and memorize.
George Gordon Byron
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!
Whose bawling beam glows tremulously far,
That prove'st the darkness chiliad canst non dispel,
How like art thou to Joy remember'd well!
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, but warms non with its powerless rays;
A dark-axle Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant – clear, but oh, how cold!
Alfred Edward Housman
It nods and curtseys and recovers
When the air current blows above,
The nettle on the graves of lovers
That hanged themselves for love.
The nettle nods, the wind blows over,
The human, he does not move,
The lover of the grave, the lover
That hanged himself for love.
***
Oh, when I was in love with you,
And so I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well did I behave.
And at present the fancy passes by,
And cypher will remain,
And miles around they'll say that I
Am quite myself again.
When I came last to Ludlow
Amongst the moonlight pale,
Two friends kept step beside me,
2 honest lads and unhurt.
Now Dick lies long in the churchyard,
And Ned lies long in jail,
And I come home to Ludlow
Amidst the moonlight pale.
***
Oh on my breast in days futurity
Light the earth should lie,
Such weight to comport is now the air,
So heavy hangs the sky.
Hilaire Belloc
The Big Baboon
The Big Baboon is found upon
The plains of Cariboo;
He goes most with zero on
(A shocking thing to do.)
But if he dressed respectably
And let his whiskers grow
How similar this Big Baboon would exist
To Mister So-and-So!
Walter de la Mare
The Horseman
I heard a horseman
Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
The dark was still;
His helm was silver,
And stake was he;
And the horse he rode
Was of ivory.
***
Hide and Seek
Hibernate and seek, says the Wind,
In the shade of the woods;
Hibernate and seek, says the Moon,
To the hazel buds;
Hide and seek, says the Deject,
Star on to star;
Hibernate and seek, says the Wave
At the harbour bar;
Hide and seek, says I,
To myself, and step
Out of the dream of Wake
Into the dream of Sleep.
T. E. Hulme
Autumn
A touch of common cold in the Autumn night —
I walked abroad,
And saw the scarlet moon lean over a hedge
Like a cerise-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded,
And round about were the contemplative stars
With white faces similar town children.
***
The embankment
(The fantasia of a fallen gentleman on a cold, bitter nighttime)
Once, in finesse of fiddles constitute I ecstasy,
In a flash of gold heels on the hard pavement.
Now run across I
That warmth's the very stuff of poesy.
Oh, God, make small
The erstwhile star-eaten blanket of the sky,
That I may fold it circular me and in condolement lie.
Richard Aldington
To Those Who Played for Safety in Life
I also might accept worn starched cuffs,
Have gulped my morning meal in haste,
Have clothed myself in dismal staffs
Which prove a sober Metropolis gustation;
I as well might take rocked and craned
In undergrounds for daily news,
And watched my soul abound slowly stained
To middle-grade unsightly hues...
I might take earned x pounds a week!
Richard Church
The Final Freedom
The bullheaded man, when the skylark shakes
Trill over trill from the blue to a higher place,
Stares upward and from darkness wakes
Through sockets eloquent with love.
If our lacking senses thus
Kindle at glories one-half-divined,
What of the joy awaiting united states
When decease brings freedom to the heed?
George Barker
Summer Song II
Soft is the coolied dark, and cool
These regions where the dreamers rule,
As Summer, in her rose and robe,
Astride the horses of the globe,
Drags, fighting, from the midnight sky,
The mushroom at whose glance nosotros die.
Philip Larkin
Pour away that youth
That overflows the heart
Into pilus and mouth;
Take the grave'due south office,
Tell the os's truth.
Throw abroad that youth
That jewel in the head
That bronze in the breath;
Walk with the expressionless
For fright of death.
***
Within the dream y'all said:
Allow us kiss then,
In this room, in this bed,
But when all'due south done
We must not meet again.
Hearing this last discussion,
There was no lambing-night,
No gale-driven bird
Nor frost-encircled root
As common cold as my centre.
Home is so lamentable. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them dorsum. Instead, insufficient
Of anyone to delight, information technology withers then,
Having no centre to put aside the theft
And turn again to what it started equally,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. Y'all tin run into how information technology was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
Ted Hughes
Kafka
And he is an owl
He is an owl, "Man" tattooed in his armpit
Under the broken fly
(Stunned past the wall of glare, he cruel here)
Under the broken wing of huge shadow that twitches across the floor.
He is a man in hopeless feathers.
Brian Patten
A Talk with a Wood
Moving through you lot one evening
when you lot offered shelter to
quiet things soaked in rain
I saw through your thinning branches
the ancestry of suburbs, and
frightened by the rain,
grayness hares running upright in
distant fields, and quite alone at that place
thought of nothing but my footprints
being filled, and love, distilled
of people, drifted free, and then
the woods spoke with me.
William Butler Yeats
He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with gold and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of dark and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your anxiety:
Merely I, being poor, have simply my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
James Joyce
The twilight turns from amethyst
To deep and deeper blueish,
The lamp fills with a pale green glow
The trees of the avenue.
The old pianoforte plays an air,
Sedate and slow and gay;
She bends upon the yellowish keys,
Her head inclines this way.
Shy thoughts and grave wide eyes and hands
That wander as they listing —
The twilight turns to darker bluish
With lights of amethyst.
***
Simples
O bella bionda,
Sei come up l'onda!
Of cool sweet dew and radiance mild
The moon a web of silence weaves
In the nevertheless garden where a child
Gathers the unproblematic salad leaves.
A moondew stars her hanging pilus
And moonlight kisses her young brow
And, gathering, she sings an air:
Fair as the wave is, off-white, art thou!
Be mine, I pray, a waxen ear
To shield me from her childish croon
And mine a shielded eye for her
Who gathers simples of the moon.
Walt Whitman
I dream'd in a dream I saw a city invincible to the attacks of the
whole of the rest of the globe,
I dream'd that was the new city of Friends,
Nothing was greater there than the quality of robust dear, it led
the rest,
It was seen every hour in the actions of the men of that city,
And in all their looks and words.
Emily Dickinson
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs simply to remember
That from you or I,
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!
To invest beingness with a stately air
Needs merely to remember
That the acorn in that location
Is the egg of forests
For the upper air!
***
If I shouldn't be alive
When the Robins come up,
Give the one in Ruddy Cravat,
A Memorial crumb.
If I couldn't cheers,
Being fast asleep,
Yous will know I'k trying
With my Granite lip!
***
I'g Nobody! Who are you lot?
Are y'all — Nobody — too?
And so there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! They'd blackball us — y'all know!
How dreary — to be — Somebody!
How public — similar a Frog —
To tell your name — the livelong June —
To an admiring Bog!
***
Heart! We will forget him!
You lot and I - tonight!
You may forget the
Warmth he gave -
I will forget the Low-cal!
When you have washed, pray tell me
That I may directly begin!
Haste! lest while you're lagging
I may remember him!
This is my letter to the Globe
That never wrote to Me —
The uncomplicated News that Nature told —
With tender Majesty
Her Bulletin is committed
To Hands I cannot see —
For honey of Her — Sweet — countrymen —
Judge tenderly — of Me
***
If I can end one Heart from breaking
shall non live in vain
If I tin ease one Life the Aching
Or cool 1 Pain
Or help i fainting Robin
Unto his Nest once more
I shall non alive in Vain.
***
I never saw a Moor —
I never saw the Sea —
Nonetheless know I how the Heather looks
And what a Billow be.
I never spoke with God
Nor visited in Heaven —
Withal sure am I of the spot
As if the Checks were given —
Carl Sandburg
Limited
I am riding on a limited express, i of the crack trains
of the nation.
Hurtling across the prairie into bluish haze and nighttime air go
fifteen all-steel coaches holding a thou people.
(All the coaches shall be scrap and rust and all the men and
women laughing in the diners and sleepers shall laissez passer to
ashes.)
I inquire a man in the smoker where he is going and he answers:
"Omaha."
***
Prayers of Steel
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Crush me and hammer me into a crowbar.
Let me pry loose old walls.
Let me lift and loosen old foundations.
Lay me on an anvil, O God.
Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Bulldoze me into the girders that concord a skyscraper together.
Take red-hot rivets and spike me into the central girders.
Let me be the great smash holding a skyscraper through blue
nights into white stars.
Robert Frost
The Pasture
I'1000 going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only finish to rake the leaves away
(And expect to picket the water articulate, I may):
I sha'northward't exist gone long. — You come besides.
I'm going out to fetch the little dogie
That's standing by the mother. It's then young,
It totters when she licks it with her tongue.
I sha'n't be gone long. — You come likewise.
***
Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in burn,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I concur with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I retrieve I know enough of detest
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Walter Lowenfels
Bulletin from Bert Brecht
And don't think
art
is that actor over there
talking
to that other one
upstage
He's the third 1
y'all don't run across
talking
to that other 1
you can't hear
offstage
Langston Hughes
Porter
I must say
Yes, sir,
To yous all the fourth dimension.
Yep, sir!
Yes, sir!
All my days
Climbing up a great big mount
Of yeah, sirs!
Rich onetime white man
Owns the world
Gimme yo' shoes
To shine
Yes, sir!
Edward Lear
There was an Quondam Human of Dumbree,
Who taught little Owls to drink Tea;
For he said, "To eat mice
Is not proper or prissy,"
That amiable Man of Dumbree.
***
There was on Old Homo of the Isles,
Whose confront was pervaded with smiles;
He sung high dum diddle,
And played on the dabble,
That amiable Homo of the Isles.
Lewis Carroll
At that place was an eccentric old draper,
Who wore a hat made of brown paper,
It went up to a point,
Notwithstanding information technology looked out of articulation,
The cause of which he said was "vapour."
***
There was once a beau of Oporta,
Who daily got shorter and shorter,
The reason he said
Was the hod on his head,
Which was filled with the heaviest mortar.
His sister named Lucy O'Finner,
Grew constantly thinner and thinner,
The reason was patently,
She slept out in the rain,
And was never immune any dinner.
John Donne
The Expiration
And then, so, pause off this last lamenting kiss,
Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away,
Turn grand ghost that manner, and let me turn this,
And let our selves benight our happiest twenty-four hour period,
We ask none leave to love; nor will nosotros owe
Any, and so inexpensive a death, as saying, Go;
Go; and if that word have not quite kil'd thee,
Ease me with death, by bidding me go too.
Oh, if information technology accept, permit my word work on me,
And a merely office on a murderer do.
Except it exist too late, to kill me so,
Being double expressionless, going, and bidding, get.
Maya Angelou
Passing Time
Your skin similar dawn
Mine similar musk
One paints the beginning
of a sure end.
The other, the end of a
certain beginning.
William Shakespeare
Sonnet 116. Allow me non to the marriage of true minds
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments, love is not love
Which alters when it amending finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed marking
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
Information technology is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his superlative be taken.
Honey's non Time'southward fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Inside his angle sickle'southward compass come up,
Love alters non with his brief hours and weeks,
Just bears it out fifty-fifty to the edge of doom:
If this exist error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man always loved.
Edgar Allan Poe
An Acrostic
Elizabeth it is in vain you say
"Love not"—thou sayest it in so sugariness a way:
In vain those words from thee or L. E. L.
Zantippe's talents had enforced so well:
Ah! if that language from thy heart ascend,
Breathe it less gently forth—and veil thine eyes.
Endymion, recollect, when Luna tried
To cure his honey—was cured of all beside—
His folly—pride—and passion—for he died.
William Blake
Epigram
You say their Pictures well Painted be,
And however they are Blockheads you lot all concur,
Thank God, I never was sent to School
To be Flogg'd into post-obit the Stile of a Fool.
The Errors of a Wise Man make your Rule
Rather than the Perfections of a Fool.
Eternity
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy every bit it flies
Lives in eternity'southward lord's day ascent.
***
All pictures that's panted with sense and with thought
Are panted by madmen, every bit sure as a groat;
For the greater the fool is the pencil more blest,
As when they are drunk they always pant all-time.
They never can Raphael it, Fuseli it, nor Blake it;
If they can't come across an outline, pray how can they arrive?
When men will draw outlines begin yous to jaw them;
Madmen see outlines and therefore they draw them.
Wystan Hugh Auden
Epitaph on a Tyrant
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was afterward,
And the verse he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the dorsum of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the petty children died in the streets.
Thomas Stearns Eliot
The Boston Evening Transcript
The readers of the Boston Evening Transcript
Sway in the air current like a field of ripe corn.
When evening quickens faintly in the street,
Wakening the appetites of life in some
And to others bringing the Boston Evening Transcript,
I mountain the steps and ring the bell, turning
Wearily, every bit one would plough to nod skillful-bye to Rochefoucauld,
If the street were time and he at the end of the street,
And I say, "Cousin Harriet, hither is the Boston Evening Transcript."
Oscar Wilde
Theoretikos
This mighty empire hath only anxiety of dirt:
Of all its ancient knightly and might
Our piddling isle is abdicate quite:
Some enemy hath stolen its crown of bay,
And from its hills that voice hath passed away
Which spake of Liberty: O come up out of it,
Come out of it my Soul, thou art not fit
For this vile traffic-house, where solar day by mean solar day
Wisdom and reverence are sold at mart,
And the rude people rage with ignorant cries
Against an heritage of centuries.
It mars my calm: wherefore in dreams of Art
And loftiest culture I would stand autonomously,
Neither for God, nor for his enemies.
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