Hilaire Belloc

(27 July 1870 – 16 July 1953 / La Celle-Saint-Cloud)

Hilaire Belloc Poems

1. Lord Roehampton 3/20/2015
2. Her Final Role 4/3/2010
3. [month Of] October 4/3/2010
4. Criterion 4/3/2010
5. From: Dedicatory Ode 4/3/2010
6. The False Heart 4/3/2010
7. Habitations 4/3/2010
8. The Diamond 4/3/2010
9. Fatigue 4/3/2010
10. The Fragment 4/3/2010
11. Lord Lundy Ii - Second Canto 4/3/2010
12. [month Of] August 4/3/2010
13. The Rebel 4/3/2010
14. To A Rhinoceros 4/3/2010
15. Epitah On The Politician Himself 4/3/2010
16. [month Of] January 4/3/2010
17. The Face 4/3/2010
18. [month Of) July 4/3/2010
19. Epitaph On The Favourite Dog Of A Politician 4/3/2010
20. The Elm 4/3/2010
21. [month Of] November 4/3/2010
22. Introduction: More Beasts For Worse Children 4/3/2010
23. [month Of] May 4/3/2010
24. A Moral Alphabet (Excerpt) 4/3/2010
25. The Bison 4/3/2010
26. Ballade Of Modest Confession 4/3/2010
27. Courtesy 4/3/2010
28. King's Land 4/3/2010
29. [month Of] December 4/3/2010
30. Introduction: The Bad Child's Book Of Beasts 4/3/2010
31. Cuckoo! 4/3/2010
32. The Mirror 4/3/2010
33. Sarah Byng, Who Could Not Read And Was Tossed Into A Thorny Hedge By A Bull 4/3/2010
34. An Author’s Hope 4/3/2010
35. The Llama 4/3/2010
36. [month Of] March 4/3/2010
37. Cautionary Tales For Children: Introduction 4/3/2010
38. [month Of] June 4/3/2010
39. On The Gift Of A Book To A Child 4/3/2010
40. [month Of] April 4/3/2010
Best Poem of Hilaire Belloc

Tarantella

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark veranda)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the din?
And the hip! hop! hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the ...

Read the full of Tarantella

Time Cures All

It was my shame, and now it is my boast,
That I have loved you rather more than most.

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