A Poison Tree by William Blake

I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both…

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Love’s Secret by William Blake

Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind doth move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears. Ah! she did depart! Soon after she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently,…

Commination by AD Hope

He that is filthy let him be filthy still. Rev. 22.11 Like John on Patmos, brooding on the Four Last Things, I meditate the ruin of friends Whose loss, Lord, brings this grand new curse to mind Now send me foes worth cursing, or send more - Since means should be proportionate to ends -…

Song of the Nymphomaniac by Fiona Pitt-Kethley

From Baffin Bay down to Tasmania I’ve preached and practised nymphomania, Had gentlemen of all complexions, All with varying erections: Coalmen, miners, metallurgists, Gurus, wizards, thaumaturgists, Aerial artists, roustabouts, Recidivists and down-and-outs, Salesmen, agents, wheeler-dealers, Dieticians, nurses, healers, Surgeons, coroners and doctors, Academics, profs and proctors, Butchers, bakers, candle-makers, Airmen, soldiers, poodlefakers, Able seamen, captains, stokers,…

"I’m an Ulsterman of planter stock. I was born on the island of Ireland, so secondarily I’m an Irishman. I was born in the British archipelago and English is my native tongue, so I am British. The British archipelago are offshore islands to the continent of Europe, so I’m European. This is my hierarchy of…

Grief by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness, In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy…

On the Grasshopper and the Cricket by John Keats

The Poetry of earth is never dead:   When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,   And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead   In summer luxury,—he has never done   With his delights; for…

Bloody Men by Wendy Cope

Bloody men are like bloody buses — You wait for about a year And as soon as one approaches your stop Two or three others appear. You look at them flashing their indicators, Offering you a ride. You’re trying to read the destinations, You haven’t much time to decide. If you make a mistake, there…

The Lake Isle of Innisfree by WB Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade. And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils…