Joseph Skipsey

(March 17, 1832 - September 3,1903 / Percy, Northumberland)

Joseph Skipsey Poems

1. Lo, A Fairy 9/3/2014
2. My Merry Bird 9/3/2014
3. Bereaved 9/3/2014
4. The Wilted Leaf 9/3/2014
5. Dora Dee 9/3/2014
6. The Lad Of Bebside 9/3/2014
7. Meg Goldlocks 9/3/2014
8. Poor Rose 9/3/2014
9. Rosa Rea 9/3/2014
10. Undeceived 9/3/2014
11. The Three Maidens 9/3/2014
12. The Breezelet 9/3/2014
13. Polly And Harry 9/3/2014
14. Young Fanny 9/3/2014
15. The Proud One's Doom 9/3/2014
16. The Ring 9/3/2014
17. Stanzas 9/3/2014
18. Lo, The Day 9/3/2014
19. The Reign Of Gold 9/4/2014
20. Daffodil And Daisy 9/4/2014
21. The Seaton Terrace Lass 9/4/2014
22. Wonder-Bound 9/4/2014
23. Kit Clark 9/4/2014
24. My Loved One 9/4/2014
25. The Seer 9/4/2014
26. Tit-For-Tat 9/4/2014
27. Annie 9/4/2014
28. Away To The Well 9/4/2014
29. Sympathy 9/4/2014
30. The Mystic Lyre 9/4/2014
31. Away To The Fair 9/4/2014
32. Music 9/4/2014
33. Slighted 9/4/2014
34. The Modest Maid 9/4/2014
35. The Outcast Flower 9/4/2014
36. The Moth 9/4/2014
37. The Toast 9/4/2014
38. Two Hazel Eyes 9/5/2014
39. Omega 9/5/2014
40. The Oracle 9/5/2014
Best Poem of Joseph Skipsey

The Butterfly

The butterfly from flower to flower
The urchin chas’d; and, when at last
He caught it in my lady’s bower,
He cried, “Ha, ha!” and held it fast.

Awhile he laugh’d, but soon he wept,
When looking at the prize he’d caught
He found he had to ruin swept
The very glory he had sought

Read the full of The Butterfly

Get Up!

Get up!" the caller calls, "Get up!"
And in the dead of night,
To win the bairns their bite and sup,
I rise a weary wight.

My flannel dudden donn'd, thrice o'er
My birds are kiss'd, and then
I with a whistle shut the door,
I may not ope again.

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