Poem Lake | The Greatest Poems of All Time

Ode to Tobacco Thou who, when fears attack, Bid’st them avaunt, and Black Care, at the horseman’s back Perching, unseatest; Sweet when the morn is gray; Sweet, when they ’ve cleared away Lunch; and at close of day Possibly sweetest: I... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley	The Cock and the Bull YOU 1 see this pebble-stone? It ’s a thing I bought Of a bit of a chit of a boy i’ the mid o’ the day— I like to dock the smaller parts-o’-speech, As we curtail the already cur-tailed cur (You catch the paronomasia, play o’ words?)— Did, rather, i’ the... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley	The Auld Wife The AULD 1 wife sat at her ivied door, (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) A thing she had frequently done before; And her spectacles lay on her aproned knees. The piper he piped on the hill-top high, (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese)... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley	Lovers, and a Reflection IN 1 moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean; Meaning, however, is no great matter) Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween; Through God’s own heather we wonned together, I and my Willie (O love... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley
The Arab ON, on, my brown Arab, away, away! Thou hast trotted o’er many a mile to-day, And I trow right meagre hath been thy fare Since they roused thee at dawn from thy straw-piled lair, To tread with those echoless, unshod feet Yon weltering flats in the... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley	“Forever” Forever! ’t is a single word! Our rude forefathers deemed it two; Can you imagine so absurd A view? Forever! What abysms of woe The word reveals, what frenzy, what Despair! For ever (printed so) Did not. ... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley	Motherhood She laid it where the sunbeams fall Unscanned upon the broken wall. Without a tear, without a groan, She laid it near a mighty stone, Which some rude swain had haply cast Thither in sport, long ages past, And time with mosses had o’erlaid, ... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley	Disaster ’t Was ever thus from childhood’s hour My fondest hopes would not decay: I never loved a tree or flower Which was the first to fade away! The garden, where I used to delve Short-frocked, still yields me pinks in plenty; The pear-tree that I... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley
On the Brink I Watched her as she stooped to pluck A wild flower in her hair to twine; And wished that it had been my luck To call her mine; Anon I heard her rate with mad, Mad words her babe within its cot, And felt particularly glad... Poet: Charles Stuart Calverley