Gilbert Keith Chesterton

(29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936 / London, England)

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

1. The novels of Jane Austen 10/15/2015
2. Whenever William Cobbett 10/15/2015
3. Sonnet With The Compliments Of The Season 10/24/2014
4. Alliterativism 10/24/2014
5. Confessional 10/24/2014
6. To Edmund Clerihew Bentley 10/24/2014
7. This Is The Sort Of Book We Like 10/24/2014
8. The Song Of Elf 10/24/2014
9. When Fishes Flew 10/24/2014
10. Modern Elfland 4/15/2012
11. Tribute To Gladstone 4/15/2012
12. Rotarians 4/15/2012
13. The New Omar 1/1/2004
14. The Horrible History Of Jones 4/15/2012
15. The Modern Manichee 4/15/2012
16. The Song Of The Wheels 4/15/2012
17. The Philanthropist 4/15/2012
18. Songs Of Education 4/15/2012
19. The Praise Of Dust 4/15/2012
20. The Mystery 4/15/2012
21. The New Fiction 4/15/2012
22. The Judgement Of England 4/15/2012
23. To St. Micheal In Time Of Peace 4/15/2012
24. Here Is The Little Door 4/15/2012
25. The Wise Men 4/15/2012
26. Jealousy 4/15/2012
27. St, Francis Xavier 4/15/2012
28. The Song Of The Oak 1/1/2004
29. A Ballade Of An Anti-Puritan 4/15/2012
30. The Ballad Of St. Barbara 4/15/2012
31. The Myth Of Arthur 1/1/2004
32. A Ballad Of Theatricals 4/15/2012
33. The Ballad Of God-Makers 4/15/2012
34. A Christmas Carol 4/15/2012
35. Cyclopean 4/15/2012
36. The Wife Of Flanders 1/1/2004
37. A Broad Minded Bishop Rebukes The Verminous St. Francis 4/15/2012
38. Variations Of An Air 1/1/2004
39. A Ballad Of Abbreviations 4/15/2012
40. A Word 4/15/2012
Best Poem of Gilbert Keith Chesterton

A Ballade Of Suicide

The gallows in my garden, people say,
Is new and neat and adequately tall;
I tie the noose on in a knowing way
As one that knots his necktie for a ball;
But just as all the neighbours--on the wall--
Are drawing a long breath to shout "Hurray!"
The strangest whim has seized me. . . . After all
I think I will not hang myself to-day.

To-morrow is the time I get my pay--
My uncle's sword is hanging in the hall--
I see a little cloud all pink and grey--
Perhaps the rector's mother will not call-- I fancy that I heard from Mr. Gall
That mushrooms could be ...

Read the full of A Ballade Of Suicide

The Great Minimum

It is something to have wept as we have wept,
It is something to have done as we have done,
It is something to have watched when all men slept,
And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose,
Although it break and leave the thorny rods,
It is something to have hungered once as those
Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

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