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Poems about Society
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Then said a teacher, "Speak to us of Teaching."
And he said:
A Lay of the Loamshire Hunt Cup
"Aye, squire," said Stevens, "they back him at evens;
Many a long hard-working day
Life brings us! and many an hour of play;
The Midland Great Western is doing its best,
And the circular ticket is safe in my vest;
This is my delight,
thus to wait and watch at the wayside
And her heart, as I thought,
Was alive to my passion;
I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, A-layin' on to the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat;
Farewell, rewards and fairies,
Good housewives now may say,
it often happens when the party is
going well,
A god in wrath
Was beating a man;
The Landing "Just the place for a Snark!" the Bellman cried,
Children of wealth in your warm nursery, Set in the cushioned window-seat to watch
I WHAT shall I do with this absurdity -
Descend from the immense space, oh ocean’s eagle!
Descend more…even more…no human glance can
Should I get married? Should I be good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
The successful man has thrust himself
Through the water of the years,
Oh! Bury me in books when I am dead,
Fair quarto leaves of ivory and gold,
`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?'
`It was my master,' said the prisoner.
Forth went the candid man
And spoke freely to the wind --
If through the years we're not to do
Much finer deeds than we have done;
there is little or nothing
of the minds nightwork
Secluded from domestic strife,
The schools marched in procession in happiness and pride,
The city bands before them, the soldiers marched beside;
There in the middle of the field, by the side of a crystalline stream, I saw a bird-cage whose rods and hinges were fashioned by an expert's hands. In one corne
I MUSE among these silent fanes Whose spacious darkness guards your dust;
Hooray, the echo will resound throughout the wide square,
When a sincere drunkard's song emanates from my throat;
The splendid smoothness of his Reign.
Charles and his mighty hopes you bear:
Man and I are sweethearts
He craves me and I long for him,
I wish't I was in Lancashire huntin' o' the hare
All across the wide moorlands an' the hollows brown an' bare,
I sucked fevers of adventure through my veins with my
mother's milk.
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