Best Surplice Poems

The Burial, Translation of Paul Verlaine’s sonnet : L’Enterrement

I know nothing as gay as a burial !
The grave-digger who sings with his pickaxe in bright thrill
The church bells from afar reverberating with their svelte trille
The priest in a white surplice whose joyous prayers hardly in...

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Some keep the Sabbath going to Church
I just keep staying at home
with thunder for a chorister
and an ochard for a dome 

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice
I just wear my wings
instead of tolling the bell for Church 
our little Sexton sings

God preaches a noble Clergyman
and...

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The ramblings of a yellow rose,
What are they, do you suppose?
And is there any sense in prose,
When written by a rambling rose?

     And does it have a single purpose,
     Or is such stuff as this simply surplice?...

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