Departure by Henry Van Dyke

Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, And why is the garden so gay? Do you know that my days of delight are done, Do you know I am going away? If you covered your face with a cloud, I 'd dream You were sorry for me in my pain, And the heads of the flowers all bowed would seem To be weeping with me in the rain...

The Ant-Eater by Roald Dahl

Some wealthy folks from U.S.A., Who lived near San Francisco Bay, Possessed an only child called Roy, A plump and unattractive boy - Half-baked, half-witted and half-boiled, But worst of all, most dreadfully spoiled. Whatever Roy desired each day, His father bought him right away -...

Ode by John Dryden

Thou youngest Virgin Daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the blest; Whose palms, new-plucked from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise, Rich with immortal green, above the rest:....

Mac Flecknoe by John Dryden

All human things are subject to decay, And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey: This Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young Was call'd to empire, and had govern'd long: In prose and verse, was own'd, without dispute Through all the realms of Non-sense, absolute. This aged prince now flourishing in peace, And blest with issue of a large increase, Worn out with business, did at length debate To settle the succession of the State:...

Johnson’s Antidote by Banjo Paterson

Down along the Snakebite River, where the overlanders camp, Where the serpents are in millions, all of the most deadly stamp; Where the station-cook in terror, nearly every time he bakes, Mixes up among the doughboys half-a-dozen poison-snakes: Where the wily free-selector walks in armour-plated pants, And defies the stings of scorpions, and the bites of bull-dog ants: Where the adder and the viper tear each other by the throat, There it was that William Johnson sought his snake-bite antidote...

Negative Love by John Donne

I never stoop'd so low, as they Which on an eye, cheeke, lip, can prey, Seldom to them, which soare no higher Than vertue or the minde to'admire, For sense, and understanding may Know, what gives fuell to their fire: My love, though silly, is more brave, For may I misse, when ere I crave, If I know yet, what I would have...

Omeros by Derek Walcott

In hill-towns, from San Fernando to Mayagüez, the same sunrise stirred the feathered lances of cane down the archipelago’s highways. The first breeze rattled the spears and their noise was like distant rain marching down from the hills, like a shell at your ears. In the cool asphalt Sundays of the Antilles....

Black Swans by Banjo Paterson

As I lie at rest on a patch of clover In the Western Park when the day is done, I watch as the wild black swans fly over With their phalanx turned to the sinking sun; And I hear the clang of their leader crying To a lagging mate in the rearward flying, And they fade away in the darkness dying, Where the stars are mustering one by one...

Dis Poetry by Benjamin Zephaniah

Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots Dis poetry is designed fe rantin Dance hall style, big mouth chanting, Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep Preaching follow me Like yu is blind sheep, Dis poetry is not Party Political Not designed fe dose who are critical. Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed It gets into me dreadlocks It lingers around me head Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike I've tried Shakespeare, respect due dere But did is de stuff I like...