Best Famous Comparatively Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Comparatively poems. This is a select list of the best famous Comparatively poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Comparatively poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of comparatively poems.

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• All Famous Comparatively Poems

Written by Ogden Nash | Come On In The Senility Is Fine People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa, But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa. The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild, You only have to live until your child has a child. From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder, Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes thirty years older. Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of imbecility, It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of the responsibility. This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun, Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no responsibility and lots of fun, But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby Who would trust their own child to raise a baby. So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers to pants and from bottle to spoon, Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come in out of a typhoon. You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do want to live forever, Don't try to be clever; If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat, Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I hate being married to a gramma Unquote.

Written by Richard Brautigan | My Nose Is Growing Old Yup. A long lazy September look in the mirror say it's true. I'm 31 and my nose is growing old. It starts about 1/2 an inch below the bridge and strolls geriatrically down for another inch or so: stopping. Fortunately, the rest of the nose is comparatively young. I wonder if girls will want me with an old nose. I can hear them now the heartless bitches! "He's cute but his nose is old."

Written by Robert William Service | Highland Hospitality Unto his housemaid spoke the Laird: "Tonight the Bishop is our guest; The spare room must be warmed and aired: To please him we will do our best. A worthy haggis you must make, And serve a bowl of barley bree; We must be hearty for the sake Of Highland Hospitality. The feast was set, the candles lit, The Bishop came with modest mien, And (one surmised) was glad to sit And sup in this ancestral scene. A noble haggis graced the board; The Laird proposed a toast or two, And ever and anon he poured His guest a glass of Mountain Dew. Then to his maid the Laird gave tongue: "My sonsie Jean, my friend is old. Comparatively you are young, And not so sensitive to cold. Poor chiel! His blood austerely beats, Though it be sped by barley bree . . . Slip half an hour between the sheets, Brave lass, and warm his bed a wee. Said she: "I'll do the best I can So that his couch may cosy be, And as a human warming pan Prove Highland Hospitality." So hearing sounds of mild carouse, As in the down she pillowed deep: "In half an hour I will arouse," She vowed, then soundly went to sleep. So when the morn was amber-orbed The Bishop from a dream awoke, And as his parritch he absorbed, Unto his host he slyly spoke: "Your haggis, Laird, was nobly bred, And braw your brew of barley bree - But oh your thought to warm the bed! That's Highland Hospitality.

Written by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | Preface To The Second Edition I have taken advantage of the publication of a Second Edition of my translation of the Poems of Goethe (originally published in 1853), to add to the Collection a version of the much admired classical Poem of Hermann and Dorothea, which was previously omitted by me in consequence of its length. Its universal popularity, however, and the fact that it exhibits the versatility of Goethe's talents to a greater extent than, perhaps, any other of his poetical works, seem to call for its admission into the present volume. On the other hand I have not thought it necessary to include the sketch of Goethe's Life that accompanied the First Edition. At the time of its publication, comparatively little was known in this country of the incidents of his career, and my sketch was avowedly written as a temporary stop-gap, as it were, pending the production of some work really deserving the tittle of a life of Goethe. Not to mention other contributions to the literature of the subject, Mr. Lewis's important volumes give the English reader all the information he is likely to require respecting Goethe's career, and my short memoir appeared to be no longer required. I need scarcely add that I have availed myself of this opportunity to make whatever improvements have suggested themselves to me in my original version of these Poems.

Written by Emily Dickinson | We see -- Comparatively -- We see -- Comparatively -- The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided -- Yesterday -- This Morning's finer Verdict -- Makes scarcely worth the toil -- A furrow -- Our Cordillera -- Our Apennine -- a Knoll -- Perhaps 'tis kindly -- done us -- The Anguish -- and the loss -- The wrenching -- for His Firmament The Thing belonged to us -- To spare these Striding Spirits Some Morning of Chagrin -- The waking in a Gnat's -- embrace -- Our Giants -- further on --