Tag Archives: Public Domain

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // To an Old Teapot By Fay Inchfawn

Now from the dust of half-forgotten things,
You rise to haunt me at the year’s Spring-cleaning,
And bring to memory dim imaginings
Of mystic meaning.

No old-time potter handled you, I ween,
Nor yet were you of gold or silver molten;
No Derby stamp, nor Worcester, can be seen,
Nor Royal Doulton.

You never stood to grace the princely board
Of monarchs in some Oriental palace.
Your lid is chipped, your chubby side is scored
As if in malice.

I hesitate to say it, but your spout
Is with unhandsome rivets held together —
Mute witnesses of treatment meted out
In regions nether.

O patient sufferer of many bumps!
I ask it gently — shall the dustbin hold you?
And will the dust-heap, with its cabbage stumps,
At last enfold you?

It ought. And yet with gentle hands I place
You with my priceless Delft and Dresden china,
For sake of one who loved your homely face
In days diviner.

by FAY INCHFAWN (1880-1978)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // A Seed by William Allingham

See how a Seed, which Autumn flung down,
And through the Winter neglected lay,
Uncoils two little green leaves and two brown,
With tiny root taking hold on the clay
As, lifting and strengthening day by day,
It pushes red branches, sprouts new leaves,
And cell after cell the Power in it weaves
Out of the storehouse of soil and clime,
To fashion a Tree in due course of time;
Tree with rough bark and boughs’ expansion,
Where the Crow can build his mansion,
Or a Man, in some new May,
Lie under whispering leaves and say,
“Are the ills of one’s life so very bad
When a Green Tree makes me deliciously glad?”
As I do now. But where shall I be
When this little Seed is a tall green Tree?

by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM (1824-1889)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Secrets. by Bliss Carman (William)

Three secrets that never were said:
The stir of the sap in the spring,
The desire of a man to a maid,
The urge of a poet to sing.

by BLISS CARMAN (WILLIAM) (1861-1929)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Out Of The Morning. by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

by EMILY ELIZABETH DICKINSON (1830-1886)
Public Domain Poetry

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Christmas. by Thomas Frederick Young

Old father Time, his cruel scythe
Has swung full oft around,
Since last the merry Christmas, bells
Rang out their cheerful sound.
With cruel vigor he has held
His great, impartial sway,
And many thousands mown to earth,
Who saw last Christmas day.

For some have left this world for aye,
Who dwelt with us last year;
Glad voices heard amongst us then,
We never more shall hear.
But still we’ll build our Christmas fires,
And sing our Christmas songs,
And for one day forget our griefs,
Our failures and our wrongs.

Then ring, ye joyful bells, ring out;
Ye crashing cymbals fall;
And for old Christmas, hale and stout,
Sound up, ye harps and all.
Let music’s loud and sweetest strain
Beat from our hearts each ill;
Let thoughts of those assuage our pain,
Who are around us still.

Oh, winsome maid, oh, hearty youth,
I urge you on to glee,
For, in your innocence and truth,
You all are dear to me.
Nor youth, nor age should cherish gloom,
And voices oft should sing,
So give the gladsome voices room,
And let the joy-bells ring.

by THOMAS FREDERICK YOUNG (1892-1940)
Public Domain Poetry