Hilaire Belloc

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

Hilaire Belloc Poems

81. Because My Faltering Feet 12/31/2002
82. Algernon 12/31/2002
83. The Tiger 12/31/2002
84. Drinking Song, On The Excellence Of Burgundy Wine 5/9/2001
85. The Lion 12/31/2002
86. Ballade To Our Lady Of Czestochowa 12/31/2002
87. The Catholic Sun 12/31/2002
88. Lord Lundy 12/31/2002
89. The South Country 5/9/2001
90. The Vulture 12/31/2002
91. A Trinity 1/3/2003
92. Matilda Who Told Lies, And Was Burned To Death 4/3/2010
93. Charles Augustus Fortescue 12/31/2002
94. Talking (And Singing) Of The Nordic Man 1/3/2003
95. Henry King 12/31/2002
96. The Microbe 12/31/2002
97. Jim 12/31/2002
98. The Frog 12/31/2002
99. The Early Morning 12/31/2002
100. George 12/31/2002
101. Rebecca 12/31/2002
102. Tarantella 12/31/2002

Comments about Hilaire Belloc

  • Lucretia Vandemark (4/8/2006 10:19:00 AM)

    When we were about ages 8 and 11, my brother and I found 'Jim' in a textbook (one of many old ones my father, a high school history teacher, had on the shelf) .
    We memorized it and recited it often for friends and family.
    Now I'm teaching it to my grandchildren.
    It's a great poem!
    Lu

    37 person liked.
    13 person did not like.
  • Randy Gill (2/28/2006 7:51:00 AM)

    The poem was as if written by a child. I review poetry everyday on a poetry site. This was downright silly. I will read more, maybe they get better. THIs is just my opinion, nothing more.

  • Louise Mcvicar (9/10/2005 2:50:00 AM)

    Hilaire Belloc was a brilliant poet. My grandads dad read his poetry to him, my grandad read it to my mum and her sisters and my mum read it to me. I have my own book of 'Cautionary tales for children.' They are readable, morbid and witty all at the same time as capturing the essence of the time. I love his fables of naughty children, his fun dittys and of course I have just recently discovered that he wrote so much more. Have a browse, he is the best! Louise

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

The Telephone

To-night in million-voiced London I
Was lonely as the million-pointed sky
Until your single voice. Ah! So the sun
Peoples all heaven, although he be but one.

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