Gilbert Keith Chesterton

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

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

41. The Road To Roundabout 1/1/2004
42. The Ballad Of The Anti-Puritan 1/1/2004
43. The Logical Vegetarian 1/1/2004
44. The Myth Of Arthur 1/1/2004
45. The Higher Unity 1/1/2004
46. The Great Minimum 1/1/2004
47. To The Unknown Warrior 1/1/2004
48. To Belloc 1/1/2004
49. A Word 4/15/2012
50. Gloria In Profundis 4/15/2012
51. The New Freethinker 1/1/2004
52. The Sword Of Suprise 1/1/2004
53. The Englishman 1/1/2004
54. The Deluge 1/1/2004
55. The Skeleton 1/1/2004
56. The Strange Music 1/1/2004
57. The Song Of Quoodle 1/1/2004
58. The Song Against Grocers 1/1/2004
59. For A War Memorial 4/15/2012
60. The Towers Of Time 1/1/2004
61. By The Babe Unborn 4/15/2012
62. The Convert 1/1/2004
63. The Shakespeare Memorial 1/1/2004
64. The House Of Christmas 1/1/2004
65. Antichrist, Or The Reunion Of Christendom: An Ode 1/1/2004
66. The Human Tree 1/1/2004
67. The Song Of Education 1/1/2004
68. The Black Virgin 1/1/2004
69. An Answer To Frances Cornford 1/1/2004
70. The Unpardonable Sin 1/1/2004
71. The Song Of Right And Wrong 1/1/2004
72. Femina Contra Mundum 1/1/2004
73. The Aristocrat 1/1/2004
74. On The Disastrous Spread Of Aestheticism In All Classes 1/1/2004
75. The Old Song 1/1/2004
76. Ecclesiastes 1/1/2004
77. A Cider Song 1/1/2004
78. Wine And Water 1/1/2004
79. The Latest School 1/1/2004
80. A Little Litany 1/1/2004

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 Old Song

A livid sky on London
And like the iron steeds that rear
A shock of engines halted
And I knew the end was near:
And something said that far away, over the hills and far away
There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.
For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,
As digging lets the daylight on the suken streets of yore,
The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London

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