Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
...

Sometimes I can almost see, around our heads,
Like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them.

Sometimes I feel them waiting, dozing
In some antechamber - servants, half-
Listening for the bell.

Sometimes I see them lying like love letters

...

Where graves are counted by innocent eyes,
And sorrow takes the shape of tears—
Where the light has vanished forever,
And even the darkness hides in fear.

Years of blood have stained this land,
And once more, the blood begins to fall.
The sparrow remains locked in her cage,
While vultures still circle, patient, cruel.


...

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
...

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

...

My to go its very good
So much born to very look
Go me sorry so well its
Very nice its very kids

Guy wall to its me well be
To get look its well to me
So me very so its good
Looked for it very blood


...

Now, a man in Oodnadatta
He grew fat, and he grew fatter,
Though he hardly had a thing to eat for dinner;
While a man in Booboorowie
Often sat and wondered how he
Could prevent himself from growing any thinner.

So the man from Oodnadatta
He came down to Booboorowie,
Where he rapidly grew flatter;
And the folk will tell you how he
Urged the man from Booboorowie
To go up to Oodnadatta -
Where he lived awhile, and now he
Is considerably fatter.
...

Tsars, Kings, Emperors,
sovereigns of all the earth,
have commanded many a parade,
but they could not command humor.
When Aesop, the tramp, came visiting
the palaces of eminent personages
ensconced in sleek comfort all day,
they struck him as paupers.
In houses, where hypocrites have
left the smear of their puny feet,

...

The sun, a molten orb of fiery grace,
Doth kiss the waves with golden, liquid trace.
A shimmering dance, a spectacle of light,
Reflecting hues, both day and starlit night.

From turquoise depths to emerald, jade, and gold,
The water's surface, a story to unfold.
Each tiny ripple, a canvas, bright and clear,
Where sunbeams paint, a vision, ever near.


...