Famous Indite Poems by Famous Poets

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390. Song—A Health to them that's awa

 HERE’S a health to them that’s awa,
 Here’s a health to them that’s awa;
And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause,
 May never gude luck be their fa’!
 It’s gude to be merry and wise,
 It’s gude to be honest and true;
It’s gude to support Caledonia’s cause,
 And bide by the buff and the blue.


 Here’s a health...Read more of this...

The Plea of the Simla Dancers

  Too late, alas! the song
 To remedy the wrong; --
The rooms are taken from us, swept and
 garnished for their fate.
 But these tear-besprinkled pages
 Shall attest to future ages
That we cried against the crime of it --
 too late, alas! too late!


"What have we ever done to bear this grudge?"
 Was there no room save only in...Read more of this...

Not Every Day Fit For Verse

 'Tis not ev'ry day that I
Fitted am to prophesy:
No, but when the spirit fills
The fantastic pannicles,
Full of fire, then I write
As the Godhead doth indite.
Thus enraged, my lines are hurl'd,
Like the Sibyl's, through the world:
Look how next the holy fire
Either slakes, or doth retire;
So the fancy cools:--till when
That brave spirit comes again....Read more of this...

Mother Mind

 I never made a poem, dear friend--
I never sat me down, and said,
This cunning brain and patient hand
Shall fashion something to be read.
Men often came to me, and prayed
I should indite a fitting verse
For fast, or festival, or in
Some stately pageant to rehearse.
(As if, than Balaam more endowed,
I of myself could bless or curse.)

Reluctantly I bade them go,
Ungladdened by...Read more of this...

Josephs Coat

 Wounded I sing, tormented I indite, 
Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest: 
Sorrow hath chang'd its note: such is his will 
Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best. 
For well he knows, if but one grief and smart 
Among my many had his full career, 
Sure it would carry with it ev'n my heart, 
And...Read more of this...

Longevity

 I watched one day a parrot grey - 'twas in a barber shop.
"Cuckold!" he cried, until I sighed: "You feathered devil, stop!"
Then balefully he looked at me, and slid along his perch,
With sneering eye that seemed to pry me very soul to search.
So fierce, so bold, so grim, so cold, so agate was his stare:
And then that bird I...Read more of this...

Writing

 When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write....Read more of this...

Sonnet XVIII

SONNET XVIII. Vergognando talor ch' ancor si taccia. THE PRAISES OF LAURA TRANSCEND HIS POETIC POWERS.  Ashamed sometimes thy beauties should remainAs yet unsung, sweet lady, in my rhyme;When first I saw thee I recall the time,Pleasing as none shall ever please again.But no fit polish can my verse attain,Not...Read more of this...

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