Jean De La Fontaine

(1621 - 1695 / Champagne / France)

Jean De La Fontaine Poems

1. The Three Gossips' Wager 1/1/2004
2. The Pack-Saddle 1/1/2004
3. The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba 1/1/2004
4. The Progress Of Wit 1/1/2004
5. The Servant Girl Justified 1/1/2004
6. The Picture 1/1/2004
7. The Pitcher 1/1/2004
8. The Dress-Maker 1/1/2004
9. The Glutton 1/1/2004
10. The Muleteer 1/1/2004
11. The Devil In Hell 1/1/2004
12. The Truckers 1/1/2004
13. The Quid Pro Quo; Or The Mistakes 1/1/2004
14. The Spectacles 1/1/2004
15. The Hermit 1/1/2004
16. The Psalter 1/1/2004
17. The River Scamander 1/1/2004
18. The Indiscreet Confessions 1/1/2004
19. The Old Man's Calendar 1/1/2004
20. The Nightingale 1/1/2004
21. The Sick Abbess 1/1/2004
22. To Promise Is One Thing To Keep It, Another 1/1/2004
23. The Ear-Maker And The Mould-Mender 1/1/2004
24. The Magnificent 1/1/2004
25. The Falcon 1/1/2004
26. The Rhemese 1/1/2004
27. The Gascon Punished 1/1/2004
28. The Impossible Thing 1/1/2004
29. The Monks Of Catalonia 1/1/2004
30. The Kiss Returned 1/1/2004
31. The Bucking-Tub 1/1/2004
32. The Eel Pie 1/1/2004
33. The Two Friends 1/1/2004
34. The Dog 1/1/2004
35. The Convent Gardener Of Lamporechio 1/1/2004
36. The Little Bell 1/1/2004
37. The Mandrake 1/1/2004
38. The Gascon 1/1/2004
39. The Cradle 1/1/2004
40. The Magic Cup 1/1/2004

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Best Poem of Jean De La Fontaine

Alice Sick

SICK, Alice grown, and fearing dire event,
Some friend advised a servant should be sent
Her confessor to bring and ease her mind;--
Yes, she replied, to see him I'm inclined;
Let father Andrew instantly be sought:--
By him salvation usually I'm taught.

A MESSENGER was told, without delay,
To take, with rapid steps, the convent way;
He rang the bell--a monk enquired his name,
And asked for what, or whom, the fellow came.
I father Andrew want, the wight replied,
Who's oft to Alice confessor and guide:
With Andrew, cried the other, would you speak?
If ...

Read the full of Alice Sick

Nicaise

TO serve the shop as 'prentice was the lot;
Of one who had the name of Nicaise got;
A lad quite ignorant beyond his trade,
And what arithmetick might lend him aid;
A perfect novice in the wily art,
That in amours is used to win the heart.
Good tradesmen formerly were late to learn
The tricks that soon in friars we discern;
They ne'er were known those lessons to begin,

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