Jonathan Swift

(30 November 1667 – 19 October 1745 / Dublin)

Jonathan Swift Poems

81. Market Women’s Cries 4/12/2010
82. Death And Daphne 4/12/2010
83. On The Moon 4/12/2010
84. On The Gallows 4/12/2010
85. Corinna 4/12/2010
86. On A Horn 4/12/2010
87. Cadenus And Vanessa 4/12/2010
88. On A Candle 4/12/2010
89. The Lady's Dressing Room 4/12/2010
90. An Echo 4/12/2010
91. A Riddle 4/12/2010
92. Stella's Birthday March 13, 1727 1/1/2004
93. The Progress Of Poetry 1/3/2003
94. On Stella's Birth-Day, 1719 1/3/2003
95. Elegy Upon Tiger 1/3/2003
96. Advice To The Grub Street Verse-Writers 1/1/2004
97. Phillis, Or, The Progress Of Love 1/3/2003
98. The Place Of The Damned 1/3/2003
99. A Description Of The Morning 1/3/2003
100. A Satirical Elegy On The Death Of A Late Famous General 1/3/2003
101. A Description Of A City Shower 1/3/2003
102. A Maypole 1/3/2003
103. A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed 1/13/2003

Comments about Jonathan Swift

  • Sjana Tait (8/24/2013 2:47:00 AM)

    That's why u got her pregnant 6 times...dnt worry its our little secret ;) Gz up & so is ur son

    1 person liked.
    13 person did not like.
  • Sjana Tait (8/24/2013 2:21:00 AM)

    Not too bad if you've gotten her pregnant eight times...don't worry it's our little secret ;)

Best Poem of Jonathan Swift

A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed

Corinna, Pride of Drury-Lane,
For whom no Shepherd sighs in vain;
Never did Covent Garden boast
So bright a batter'd, strolling Toast;
No drunken Rake to pick her up,
No Cellar where on Tick to sup;
Returning at the Midnight Hour;
Four Stories climbing to her Bow'r;
Then, seated on a three-legg'd Chair,
Takes off her artificial Hair:
Now, picking out a Crystal Eye,
She wipes it clean, and lays it by.
Her Eye-Brows from a Mouse's Hide,
Stuck on with Art on either Side,
Pulls off with Care, and first displays 'em,
Then in a Play-Book smoothly ...

Read the full of A Beautiful Young Nymph Going To Bed

Elegy Upon Tiger

Her dead lady's joy and comfort,
Who departed this life
The last day of March, 1727:
To the great joy of Bryan
That his antagonist is gone.

And is poor Tiger laid at last so low?
O day of sorrow! -Day of dismal woe!
Bloodhounds, or spaniels, lap-dogs, 'tis all one,

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