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To A Young Lady, On Her Translation Of The Story Of Phoebus And Daphne, From Ovid

In Phœbus Wit (as Ovid said)
Enchanting Beauty woo'd;
In Daphne Beauty coily fled,
While vainly Wit pursu'd.
But when you trace what Ovid writ,
A diff'rent Turn we view;
Beauty no longer flies from Wit,
Since both are joyn'd in You.
Your Lines the wondrous Change impart,
From whence our Lawrels spring;
In Numbers fram'd to please the Heart,
And merit what they Sing.
Methinks thy Poet's gentle Shade
Its Wreath presents to Thee;
What Daphne owes you as a Maid,
She pays you as a Tree.

poem by Thomas Parnell
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Couplets on Wit

I

But our Great Turks in wit must reign alone
And ill can bear a Brother on the Throne.

II

Wit is like faith by such warm Fools profest
Who to be saved by one, must damn the rest.

III

Some who grow dull religious strait commence
And gain in morals what they lose in sence.

IV

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poem by Alexander Pope
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Sonnet 34: Come Let Me Write

Come, let me write. 'And to what end?' To ease
A burthen'd heart. 'How can words ease, which are
The glasses of thy daily vexing care?'
Oft cruel fights well pictur'd forth do please.

'Art not asham'd to publish thy disease?'
Nay, that may breed my fame, it is so rare.
'But will not wise men think thy words fond ware?'
Then be they close, and so none shall displease.

'What idler thing than speak and not be heard?'
What harder thing than smart, and not to speak?
Peace, foolish wit, with wit my wit is marr'd.

Thus write I while I doubt to write, and wreak
My harms on ink's poor loss; perhaps some find
Stella's great powers, that so confuse my mind.

poem by Philip Sidney
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My Heart Poverty.........................

My heart is filled wit poverty it's alone i am hungry to be accepted
But my heart is filled wit poverty it speaks words of volmue but know one hears it

it's rejected.

My heart desire love and affection but it been shot in it's chest it needs reurrections.

Some say it's just a symptom but this heart is broken and steps on left on the ground unwanted......

this heart bleeds internally
My heart is filled wit poverty it's been deprived i don't know if it wants to beat anymore will it last another day to survive?

the conditions is bad ememies fightin in my veins went to my brain it blow up everything else was left was my heart and the remains.

Christian Guice

poem by Christian Guice
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Between My Wishes and Suspicions

When I say I'm eleven,
I'm not speaking of my wit.
I'm speaking of what I've got,
Between my...
Wishes and suspicions.

When I say I'm eleven,
I'm not speaking of my wit.
I'm speaking of what I've got,
Between my...
Wishes and suspicions.

I don't tease a bit.
Between my...
Wishes and suspicions.
I don't even plead the 5th.
Between my...
Wishes and suspicions,
I can handle it.
And anything else I choose to take on.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Go Hard

Who’s laughin ain't no way
You can even beat me
You gonna need a leprechaun
And a magic genie
Tryna mess wit me
Tryna lock me at this game
Watch me bust the door
Kick it down like a soccer game
You playin wit fire
So you get my angry frame
See how tough you are wit
Nightmares and a world of pain…
Jus don’t take me kindly
Ima death trap you idiot
Oh I see you bleedin
Heres a pad for your period
You verse me
I will never be defeated
Go to a fortune teller
She will tell you she even sees it…

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poem by Travis Johnson
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Frank the Jester

There's joy in legislative halls
When Frank's in opposition;
But gloom upon the Chamber falls
When Frank holds high position.
His merry japes no longer flit
About the House to mellow it,
For cares of office dull his wit
And mar his life's great mission.

Frank's mission - and a high one, too,
Amongst the chiefest rating
Is to infuse come joy anew
Into the dull debating.
When speakers drone and lose their grip,
And every member has the pip,
Up rises Frank with merry quip
And humor scintillating.

But as a Minister, alack,
His ready wit grows clouded.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Grey Fantail

The bushmen call me 'Cranky Fan,'
Because my strange erratic flight
Seems to uncomprehending man
Sign of a wit not over-bright;
But nimble wit and nimble wing
Uphold me in the trade I ply
Of ever-restless foraging
Excuse me - there's another fly!

A tireless ball of buff and grey;
White-shafted, my important tail
Guides me on my unstable way
When stronger aviators fail;
Now right rise up, now upside down,
Now tumbling crazily from high,
I ape the antics of a clown
Whoop! - and that's another fly!

'Tis thus my daily fare I earn
By nimble trick of wit and wing;

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Cold

There was a cold
In which

A line of water across the chest risen
(dream)

Impetuate, or
Impetuates

Orthograph you cherish, a hand her
Of doubt importance

Her imbroglio the winnowing of ever
Does establish

An imbroglio, ever
she does repeatedly declare

to no cold end
Admonish wit, at wit's end, where "wit" is

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poem by Erin Mouré
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To This Moment a Rebel

To this moment a rebel I throw down my arms,
Great Love, at first sight of Olinda's bright charms.
Make proud and secure by such forces as these,
You may now play the tyrant as soon as you please.

When Innocence, Beauty, and Wit do conspire
To betray, and engage, and inflame my Desire,
Why should I decline what I cannot avoid?
And let pleasing Hope by base Fear be destroyed?

Her innocence cannot contrive to undo me,
Her beauty's inclined, or why should it pursue me?
And Wit has to Pleasure been ever a friend,
Then what room for Despair, since Delight is Love's end?

There can be no danger in sweetness and youth,
Where Love is secured by good nature and truth;
On her beauty I'll gaze and of pleasure complain
While every kind look adds a link to my chain.

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poem by Lord John Wilmot
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