Requiescat

1811 –

1863

  Under the stone you behold,
  Buried, and coffined, and cold,
  Lieth Sir Wilfrid the Bold.

  Always he marched in advance,
  Warring in Flanders and France,
  Doughty with sword and with lance.

  Famous in Saracen fight,
  Rode in his youth the good knight,
  Scattering Paynims in flight.

  Brian the Templar untrue,
  Fairly in tourney he slew,
  Saw Hierusalem too.

  Now he is buried and gone,
  Lying beneath the gray stone:
  Where shall you find such a one?

  Long time his widow deplored,
  Weeping the fate of her lord,
  Sadly cut off by the sword.

  When she was eased of her pain,
  Came the good Lord Athelstane,
  When her ladyship married again.

This poem is in the public domain.

At the Zoo

First I saw the white bear, then I saw the black;
Then I saw the camel with a hump upon his back;
Then I saw the grey wolf, with mutton in his maw;
Then I saw the wombat waddle in the straw;
Then I saw the elephant a-waving of his trunk;
Then I saw the monkeys—mercy, how unpleasantly they smelt!

William Makepeace Thackeray

1863

The King of Yvetot

There was a king of Yvetot, Of whom renown hath little said, Who let all thoughts of glory go, And dawdled half his days a-bed; And every night, as night came round, By Jenny, with a nightcap crowned, Slept very sound: Sing ho, ho, ho! and he, he, he! That's the kind of king for me. And every day it came to pass, That four lusty meals made he; And, step by step, upon an ass, Rode abroad, his realms to see; And wherever he did stir, What think you was his escort, sir? Why, an old cur. Sing ho, ho, ho !

William Makepeace Thackeray

2018

The Garret

     With pensive eyes the little room I view,
       Where, in my youth, I weathered it so long;
     With a wild mistress, a stanch friend or two,
       And a light heart still breaking into song:
     Making a mock of life, and all its cares,
       Rich in the glory of my rising sun,
     Lightly I vaulted up four pair of stairs,
       In the brave days when I was twenty-one.

     Yes; 'tis a garret—let him know't who will—
       There was my bed—full hard it was and small.
     My table there—and I decipher still
       Half a lame couplet charcoaled on the wall.
     Ye joys,

William Makepeace Thackeray

2018

Poems

Requiescat

More by this poet

At the Zoo

The King of Yvetot

The Garret

Poems

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Requiescat

More by this poet

At the Zoo

The King of Yvetot

The Garret

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