Gilbert Keith Chesterton

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

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

81. A Song Of Defeat 1/1/2004
82. Who Goes Home? 1/1/2004
83. Americanisation 1/1/2004
84. The Ballad Of The White Horse 1/1/2004
85. A Hymn 1/1/2004
86. Elegy In A Country Churchyard 1/1/2004
87. The Secret People 1/1/2004
88. Gold Leaves 1/1/2004
89. A Child Of The Snows 1/1/2004
90. Eternities 1/1/2004
91. The Last Hero 1/1/2004
92. Lepanto 1/1/2004
93. The Rolling English Road 1/1/2004
94. A Prayer In Darkness 1/1/2004
95. The Donkey 1/1/2004
96. A Ballade Of Suicide 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 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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