Joseph Skipsey

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

Joseph Skipsey Poems

81. The Charmer 9/8/2014
82. The Broken Spell 9/8/2014
83. The Fairies' Adieu 9/8/2014
84. The Inner Harp 9/8/2014
85. The Fair Flower 9/8/2014
86. The Lucky Hour 9/8/2014
87. The Assurance 9/8/2014
88. The Secret 9/8/2014
89. The Bugle-Horn 9/8/2014
90. The Pearl 9/8/2014
91. The Two-Fold Suprise 9/8/2014
92. The Return 9/8/2014
93. The Bee And The Rose 9/8/2014
94. The Rose's Complaint 9/8/2014
95. The Echo 9/8/2014
96. The Minstrel 9/8/2014
97. The Seen And The Unseen 9/8/2014
98. The Fair Thief 9/8/2014
99. The Two Mirrors 9/8/2014
100. The One Solace 9/8/2014
101. The Syren 9/8/2014
102. The Cloud 9/8/2014
103. The Songstress 9/8/2014
104. The Bowl 9/10/2014
105. The Right Thing 9/10/2014
106. The Tower 9/10/2014
107. Too True 9/10/2014
108. What Else 9/10/2014
109. Hag Night 9/11/2014
110. The Witch-Glass 9/11/2014
111. Not The Bird 9/11/2014
112. Dame Malice 9/11/2014
113. Rumour 9/11/2014
114. The Critics 9/11/2014
115. The Petition 9/11/2014
116. Billy Taylor 9/11/2014
117. The Posy-Gift. 9/11/2014
118. A Cry For Poland 9/11/2014
119. Just The Way 9/15/2014
120. A Golden Lot 9/15/2014
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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