Jean De La Fontaine

(1621 - 1695 / Champagne / France)

Jean De La Fontaine Poems

1. The Dress-Maker 1/1/2004
2. The Three Gossips' Wager 1/1/2004
3. The Pack-Saddle 1/1/2004
4. The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba 1/1/2004
5. The Progress Of Wit 1/1/2004
6. The Servant Girl Justified 1/1/2004
7. The Picture 1/1/2004
8. The Pitcher 1/1/2004
9. The Hermit 1/1/2004
10. The Glutton 1/1/2004
11. The Muleteer 1/1/2004
12. The Devil In Hell 1/1/2004
13. The Truckers 1/1/2004
14. The Quid Pro Quo; Or The Mistakes 1/1/2004
15. The Spectacles 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 Monks Of Catalonia 1/1/2004
29. The Impossible Thing 1/1/2004
30. The Bucking-Tub 1/1/2004
31. The Kiss Returned 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 Cradle 1/1/2004
38. The Mandrake 1/1/2004
39. The Gascon 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

The Contract

THE husband's dire mishap, and silly maid,
In ev'ry age, have proved the fable's aid;
The fertile subject never will be dry:
'Tis inexhaustible, you may rely.
No man's exempt from evils such as these:--
Who thinks himself secure, but little sees.
One laughs at sly intrigues who, ere 'tis long,
May, in his turn, be sneered at by the throng:
With such vicissitudes, to be cast down,

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