Paris Poems
Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The Fiftieth Anniversary
by Henry Wadswor Longfellow
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.
Ovid, Fastorum, Lib. vi.
'O Cæsar, we who are about to die
Salute you! ' was the gladiators' cry
In the arena, standing face to face
With death and with the Roman populace.
O ye familiar scenes,- ye groves of pine,
That once were mine and are no longer mine,-
Thou river, widening through the meadows green
......
The Antiques At Paris
by Friedrich Schiller
That which Grecian art created,
Let the Frank, with joy elated,
Bear to Seine's triumphant strand,
And in his museums glorious
Show the trophies all-victorious
To his wondering fatherland.
They to him are silent ever,
Into life's fresh circle never
From their pedestals come down.
......
America For Me
by Henry Van Dyke
'Tis fine to see the Old World and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
To admire the crumblyh castles and the statues and kings
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.
So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again and there I long to be,
In the land of youth and freedom, beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.
......
A Letter To My Aunt
by Dylan Thomas
A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry
To you, my aunt, who would explore
The literary Chankley Bore,
The paths are hard, for you are not
A literary Hottentot
But just a kind and cultured dame
Who knows not Eliot (to her shame).
Fie on you, aunt, that you should see
No genius in David G.,
No elemental form and sound
......
Don Juan: Canto The Eighth
by George Gordon Byron
The town was taken--whether he might yield
Himself or bastion, little matter'd now:
His stubborn valour was no future shield.
Ismail's no more! The Crescent's silver bow
Sunk, and the crimson Cross glar'd o'er the field,
But red with no redeeming gore: the glow
Of burning streets, like moonlight on the water,
Was imag'd back in blood, the sea of slaughter.
All that the mind would shrink from of excesses;
......
Paris When It’s Late at Night
by Joe Cyr
(couplets)
Paris When it’s Late at Night
Can give a person awful fright
The gargoyles of Notre Dame
Roam the street in Satan’s name
From Paris sewers come the rats
......
Paris
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
One glorious, sun-drenched, thirsty December day,
I sat, numbed with the agedness of a visitor, and
Fumed eloquently with joy for the benefit of the
Seine – the ointment of Paris.
Somewhere along the gritty line laid bare by sere weeds
Of winter,
A restless tranter eulogised:
“Ce est Paris!”
From the whistling, grating metro to the navel of
Elevated Eiffel, the tall, metallic maiden,
......
beerbottle chess
by Matthew Conrad
youtube rarely gives you glimpses into its old
1940s / 1950s glory days of
the a.i. jukebox...
but it still happens...
darkness old friend - julian winding -
powder room -
i still remember that old dream of mine...
one summer in Ibiza...
......
Tales of a Paris Flâneur
by Carl Halling
My Paris begins with
Those early days
As a conscious flâneur;
I recall the couple
On the Metro,
When I was still innocent
Of its labyrinthine complexities;
Slim pretty white girl,
......
Paris In Spring
by Sara Teasdale
The city's all a-shining
Beneath a fickle sun,
A gay young wind's a-blowing,
The little shower is done.
But the rain-drops still are clinging
And falling one by one --
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris,
And spring-time has begun.
I know the Bois is twinkling
......
