On our Pharsalian Plaines , comprizing space
For Caesars host brave Pompey to outface,
An handfull of our men are walled round
With Indian swarmes; anon their pieces sound
A Madrigal like heav'ns artilery
Lightning and thunderbolts their bullets fly.
Her's hosts to handfulls, of a few they leave
Fewer to tell how many they bereave.
Fool-hardy fortitude it had been sure
Fierce storms of shot and arrows to endure
Without all hopes of some requital to
So numerous and pestilent a foe.
Some musing a retreat and thence to run,

On my window sill
rose petals bloomed
From the grapevine sprang
an arbor, a green
ladder
And my house leaned
against a bundle
of sunrays and bathed.
That was before their tanks

On Monday morning as we set sail,
The wind did blow a most pleasant gale,
For to fight the French it was our intent,
Through smoke and fire, through smoke and fire,
And into the gloomy night we went.

Now the French were camped up on mountains high,
And we, poor hearts, at the foot did lie.
" Never mind, my lads," General Wolfe did say,
" Brave lads of honour, brave lads of honour,
Old England shall win the day."

Bold General Wolfe unto his men did say,
" Come, come, my lads, and follow me
Up yonder mountain that looks so high,

1

From the Greek Anthology

On miserable Nearchos' bones lie lightly, earth,
That the dogs may dig him up, for what he's worth.

2

On a Boxer

In his still corner Rocky takes the count.
He would not rise again for any amount.

3

Full-nelsoned in earth's arms the Crusher sleeps
Whom no man living could pin down for keeps.

4

Teutonic Scholar

Whose views twelve heavy tomes perpetuate
Now lies as though beneath a paperweight.

5

Here lies a girl whose beauty made Time stay.

On Lolham Brigs in wild and lonely mood
I've seen the winter floods their gambols play
Through each old arch that trembled while I stood
Bent o'er its wall to watch the dashing spray
As their old stations would be washed away
Crash came the ice against the jambs and then
A shudder jarred the arches--yet once more
It breasted raving waves and stood agen
To wait the shock as stubborn as before
--White foam brown crested with the russet soil
As washed from new ploughd lands would dart beneath
Then round and round a thousand eddies boil

On Leven's banks, while free to rove,
And tune the rural pipe to love;
I envied not the happiest swain
That ever trod th' Arcadian plain.

Pure stream! in whose transparent wave
My youthful limbs I wont to lave;
No torrents stain thy limpid source;
No rocks impede thy dimpling course,
That sweetly warbles o'er its bed,
With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread;
While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood
In myriads cleave thy crystal flood;
The springing trout in speckled pride;
The salmon, monarch of the tide;

On Kingston Bridge the starlight shone
Through hurrying mists in shrouded glow;
The boding night-wind made its moan,
The mighty river crept below.
'T was All Souls' night, and to and fro
The quick and dead together walked,
The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
Two met who had not met for years;
Once was their hate too deep for fears:
One drew his rapier as he came,
Upleapt his anger like a flame.
With clash of mail he faced his foe,
And bade him stand and meet him so.
He felt a graveyard wind go by

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye,
To Canaan's– fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.

Chorus
I am bound for the promised land,
I'm bound for the promised land
Oh, who will come and go with me?
I am bound for the promised land. land.

2

There generous fruits that never fail
On trees immortal grow;
There rocks and hills and brooks and vales
With milk and honey flow.

CHORUS : I am bound, etc.

3

O, the transporting rapt'rous scene
That rises to my sight,

The year we understood city by feral , honeysuckle
smothered so much of spring: the wings' soft slapping, like laundered sheets
flapping on lines tightroping alleys, and from the ledge,
from the orange bead of an eye, the park statue
a steel seed; invisible the little bowls of poison
city elders gift them for fouling chalky white the founding
father bronzed to horse in
heroic gesture, hooves paused midair
corroding. When the seventeenth century darkened
with lost cousins, passengers the sky descending
into ripening corn three days transformed

On his deathbed poor Lubin lies:
His spouse is in despair:
With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.

A diff'rent cause, says Parson Sly,
The same effect may give:
Poor Lubin fears, that he shall die;
His wife, that he may live.