Best Famous Goldfinch Poems

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

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Written by Geoffrey Chaucer | Create an image from this poem

The Cooks Tale

 THE PROLOGUE.
THE Cook of London, while the Reeve thus spake, For joy he laugh'd and clapp'd him on the back: "Aha!" quoth he, "for Christes passion, This Miller had a sharp conclusion, Upon this argument of herbergage.
* *lodging Well saide Solomon in his language, Bring thou not every man into thine house, For harbouring by night is perilous.
*Well ought a man avised for to be* *a man should take good heed* Whom that he brought into his privity.
I pray to God to give me sorrow and care If ever, since I highte* Hodge of Ware, *was called Heard I a miller better *set a-work*; *handled He had a jape* of malice in the derk.
*trick But God forbid that we should stinte* here, *stop And therefore if ye will vouchsafe to hear A tale of me, that am a poore man, I will you tell as well as e'er I can A little jape that fell in our city.
" Our Host answer'd and said; "I grant it thee.
Roger, tell on; and look that it be good, For many a pasty hast thou letten blood, And many a Jack of Dover<1> hast thou sold, That had been twice hot and twice cold.
Of many a pilgrim hast thou Christe's curse, For of thy parsley yet fare they the worse.
That they have eaten in thy stubble goose: For in thy shop doth many a fly go loose.
Now tell on, gentle Roger, by thy name, But yet I pray thee be not *wroth for game*; *angry with my jesting* A man may say full sooth in game and play.
" "Thou sayst full sooth," quoth Roger, "by my fay; But sooth play quad play,<2> as the Fleming saith, And therefore, Harry Bailly, by thy faith, Be thou not wroth, else we departe* here, *part company Though that my tale be of an hostelere.
* *innkeeper But natheless, I will not tell it yet, But ere we part, y-wis* thou shalt be quit.
"<3> *assuredly And therewithal he laugh'd and made cheer,<4> And told his tale, as ye shall after hear.
Notes to the Prologue to the Cook's Tale 1.
Jack of Dover: an article of cookery.
(Transcriber's note: suggested by some commentators to be a kind of pie, and by others to be a fish) 2.
Sooth play quad play: true jest is no jest.
3.
It may be remembered that each pilgrim was bound to tell two stories; one on the way to Canterbury, the other returning.
4.
Made cheer: French, "fit bonne mine;" put on a pleasant countenance.
THE TALE.
A prentice whilom dwelt in our city, And of a craft of victuallers was he: Galliard* he was, as goldfinch in the shaw**, *lively **grove Brown as a berry, a proper short fellaw: With lockes black, combed full fetisly.
* *daintily And dance he could so well and jollily, That he was called Perkin Revellour.
He was as full of love and paramour, As is the honeycomb of honey sweet; Well was the wenche that with him might meet.
At every bridal would he sing and hop; He better lov'd the tavern than the shop.
For when there any riding was in Cheap,<1> Out of the shoppe thither would he leap, And, till that he had all the sight y-seen, And danced well, he would not come again; And gather'd him a meinie* of his sort, *company of fellows To hop and sing, and make such disport: And there they *sette steven* for to meet *made appointment* To playen at the dice in such a street.
For in the towne was there no prentice That fairer coulde cast a pair of dice Than Perkin could; and thereto *he was free *he spent money liberally Of his dispence, in place of privity.
* where he would not be seen* That found his master well in his chaffare,* *merchandise For oftentime he found his box full bare.
For, soothely, a prentice revellour, That haunteth dice, riot, and paramour, His master shall it in his shop abie*, *suffer for All* have he no part of the minstrelsy.
*although For theft and riot they be convertible, All can they play on *gitern or ribible.
* *guitar or rebeck* Revel and truth, as in a low degree, They be full wroth* all day, as men may see.
*at variance This jolly prentice with his master bode, Till he was nigh out of his prenticehood, All were he snubbed* both early and late, *rebuked And sometimes led with revel to Newgate.
But at the last his master him bethought, Upon a day when he his paper<2> sought, Of a proverb, that saith this same word; Better is rotten apple out of hoard, Than that it should rot all the remenant: So fares it by a riotous servant; It is well lesse harm to let him pace*, *pass, go Than he shend* all the servants in the place.
*corrupt Therefore his master gave him a quittance, And bade him go, with sorrow and mischance.
And thus this jolly prentice had his leve*: *desire Now let him riot all the night, or leave*.
*refrain And, for there is no thief without a louke,<3> That helpeth him to wasten and to souk* *spend Of that he bribe* can, or borrow may, *steal Anon he sent his bed and his array Unto a compere* of his owen sort, *comrade That loved dice, and riot, and disport; And had a wife, that held *for countenance* *for appearances* A shop, and swived* for her sustenance.
*prostituted herself .
.
.
.
.
.
.
<4> Notes to the Cook's Tale 1.
Cheapside, where jousts were sometimes held, and which was the great scene of city revels and processions.
2.
His paper: his certificate of completion of his apprenticeship.
3.
Louke: The precise meaning of the word is unknown, but it is doubtless included in the cant term "pal".
4.
The Cook's Tale is unfinished in all the manuscripts; but in some, of minor authority, the Cook is made to break off his tale, because "it is so foul," and to tell the story of Gamelyn, on which Shakespeare's "As You Like It" is founded.
The story is not Chaucer's, and is different in metre, and inferior in composition to the Tales.
It is supposed that Chaucer expunged the Cook's Tale for the same reason that made him on his death- bed lament that he had written so much "ribaldry.
"
Written by Algernon Charles Swinburne | Create an image from this poem

The Many

 Greene, garlanded with February's few flowers
Ere March came in with Marlowe's rapturous rage;
Peele, from whose hand the sweet white locks of age
Took the mild chaplet woven of honored hours;
Nash, laughing hard; Lodge, flushed from lyric bowers;
And Lilly, a goldfinch in a twisted cage
Fed by some gay great lady's pettish page
Till short sweet songs gush clear like short spring showers;
Kid, whose grim sport still gamboled over graves;
And Chettle, in whose fresh funereal verse
Weeps Marian yet on Robin's wildwood hearse;
Cooke, whose light boat of song one soft breath saves,
Sighed from a maiden's amorous mouth averse;
Live likewise ye--Time takes not you for slaves.
Written by Mother Goose | Create an image from this poem

When Jenny Wren Was Young


'Twas once upon a time, when Jenny Wren was young,
So daintily she danced and so prettily she sung,
Robin Redbreast lost his heart, for he was a gallant bird.
So he doffed his hat to Jenny Wren, requesting to be heard.

"Oh, dearest Jenny Wren, if you will but be mine,
You shall feed on cherry pie and drink new currant wine,
I'll dress you like a goldfinch or any peacock gay,
So, dearest Jen, if you'll be mine, let us appoint the day.
"
Jenny blushed behind her fan and thus declared her mind:
"Since, dearest Bob, I love you well, I'll take your offer kind.
Cherry pie is very nice and so is currant wine,
But I must wear my plain brown gown and never go too fine.
"
Written by Katherine Mansfield | Create an image from this poem

The Man with the Wooden Leg

 There was a man lived quite near us;
He had a wooden leg and a goldfinch in a green cage.
His name was Farkey Anderson, And he'd been in a war to get his leg.
We were very sad about him, Because he had such a beautiful smile And was such a big man to live in a very small house.
When he walked on the road his leg did not matter so much; But when he walked in his little house It made an ugly noise.
Little Brother said his goldfinch sang the loudest of all birds, So that he should not hear his poor leg And feel too sorry about it.