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

Comments about Gilbert Keith Chesterton

  • Johnathan James (11/30/2018 10:27:00 PM)

    God blessed this brilliant mind

    1 person liked.
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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 New Omar

A Book of verses underneath the bough,
Provided that the verses do not scan,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and Thou,
Short-haired, all angles, looking like a man.

But let the wine be unfermented, Pale,
Of chemicals compounded, God knows how--
This were indeed the Prophet's Paradise,
O Paradise were Wilderness enow.

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