Poems about puckers (4 Poems)


    To The Chief Musician Upon Nabla: A Tyndallic Ode (James Clerk Maxwell Poems)

    I.   I come from fields of fractured ice,    Whose wounds are cured by squeezing,  Melting they cool, but in a trice,    Get warm again by freezing.  Here, in the frosty air, the sprays    With fernlike hoar-frost bristle,  There, liquid stars their watery rays    Shoot through the solid … Continue reading →



    The Kid (C J Dennis Poems)

    My son! . . . Them words, jist like a blessed song,Is singin’ in me ‘eart the ‘ole day long;    Over an’ over; while I’m scared I’ll wake    Out of a dream, to find it all a fake. … Continue reading →



    La Ronde Du Diable (Amy Lowell Poems)

    Here we go round the ivy-bush,  And that’s a tune we all dance to.  Little poet people snatching ivy,  Trying to prevent one another from snatching ivy.  If you get a leaf, there’s another for me;  Look at the bush.  … Continue reading →



    Limey (Bill Adams Poems)

    She’s a Liverpool ship, an’ becalmed on the Line;Ain’t it hell when a Liverpool sailor must dine?Salt pork an’ pea soup (an’ the sun’s overhead),An’ the fat weevils crawlin’ in mouldy hard bread;But the cook’s at his door wi’ a … Continue reading →