# Absolutely badass old poems **URL:** \ **Category:** Cafe Society\ **Created:** [June 22, 2014, 7:31pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382 "2014-06-22T19:31:38Z")\ **Posts on this page:** 20\ **Page:** 6
**Author:** ![SCAdian](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/scadian/32/3292_2.png) [@SCAdian](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/SCAdian)\ **Post date:** [June 30, 2014, 11:13pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/101 "2014-06-30T23:13:32Z")
Fell like a cannon-shot, Burst like a thunderbolt, Crash’d like a hurricane, Broke thro’ the mass from below, Drove thro’ the midst of the foe, Plunged up and down, to and fro, Rode flashing blow upon blow, Brave Inniskillens and Greys Whirling their sabres in circles of light! And some of us, all in amaze, Who were held for a while from the fight, And were only standing at gaze, When the dark-muffled Russian crowd Folded its wings from the left and the right, And roll’d them around like a cloud,– O, mad for the charge and the battle were we, When our own good redcoats sank from sight, Like drops of blood in a dark-gray sea, And we turn’d to each other, whispering, all dismay’d, ‘Lost are the gallant three hundred of Scarlett’s Brigade!’ – from “The Charge of the Heavy Brigade at Balaclava,” by Tennyson ---
**Author:** ![robert\_columbia](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/e79b87/32.png) [@robert\_columbia](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/robert_columbia)\ **Post date:** [July 1, 2014, 2:11pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/102 "2014-07-01T14:11:24Z")
The Battle in Sir Walter Scott’s Marmion is pretty awesome. > [@Sir Walter Scott](#): > > But as they left the dark’ning heath, > More desperate grew the strife of death, > The English shafts in volleys hail’d, > In headlong charge their horse assail’d; > Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep > To break the Scottish circle deep, > That fought around their King. > But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, > Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, > Though bill-men ply the ghastly blow, > Unbroken was the ring; > The stubborn spear-men still made good > Their dark impenetrable wood, > Each stepping where his comrade stood, > The instant that he fell. > No thought was there of dastard flight; > Link’d in the serried phalanx tight, > Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, > As fearlessly and well; > Till utter darkness closed her wing > O’er their thin host and wounded King… If you read a lot of kidlit, you probably know that Anne of Green Gables goes completely fangirl over these lines. ---
**Author:** ![robert\_columbia](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/r/e79b87/32.png) [@robert\_columbia](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/robert_columbia)\ **Post date:** [July 1, 2014, 2:20pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/103 "2014-07-01T14:20:08Z")
Make sure you check out Noyes’ [The Highwayman](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171940), though hell should bar the way. Bonus points if you’ve ever loved a landlord’s daughter \<3. ---
**Author:** ![Zeldar](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/z/b77776/32.png) [@Zeldar](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Zeldar)\ **Post date:** [July 1, 2014, 2:37pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/104 "2014-07-01T14:37:36Z")
> [@robert\_columbia](#): > > Make sure you check out Noyes’ [The Highwayman](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171940), though hell should bar the way. Bonus points if you’ve ever loved a landlord’s daughter \<3. My Man!! (Negatory on part 2 of your post, though.) 😃 and ☹ ---
**Author:** ![Knowed\_Out](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/knowed_out/32/7380_2.png) [@Knowed\_Out](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Knowed_Out)\ **Post date:** [July 1, 2014, 3:04pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/105 "2014-07-01T15:04:30Z")
Oedipus, don’t leave us hanging! Out of all the poems tracked, which Verse, we are all demanding, shall be scribed upon your back? ---
**Author:** ![sciurophobic](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/cab0a1/32.png) [@sciurophobic](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/sciurophobic)\ **Post date:** [July 1, 2014, 3:17pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/106 "2014-07-01T15:17:50Z")
Robert Browning’s [How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix](http://www.bartleby.com/246/644.html). Like _the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere_, but with more dead horses. ---
**Author:** ![Sefton](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/s/5daacb/32.png) [@Sefton](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Sefton)\ **Post date:** [July 1, 2014, 11:07pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/107 "2014-07-01T23:07:05Z")
Speaking of Robert Browning, I always thought his poem [Prospice](http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2002/10/prospice-robert-browning.html) was pretty badass. \*I was ever a fighter, so – one fight more, The best and the last! I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, And bade me creep past. No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers The heroes of old, Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life’s arrears Of pain, darkness and cold.\* ---
**Author:** ![Dendarii\_Dame](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/bbce88/32.png) [@Dendarii\_Dame](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Dendarii_Dame)\ **Post date:** [July 4, 2014, 10:57pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/108 "2014-07-04T22:57:14Z")
Clipper Ships and Captains by Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet There was a time before our time, It will not come again, When the best ships still were wooden ships But the men were iron men. Read the rest of it: [http://www.constitutional.net/099.html](http://www.constitutional.net/099.html) ---
**Author:** ![vontsira](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/v/51bf81/32.png) [@vontsira](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/vontsira)\ **Post date:** [July 5, 2014, 5:59am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/109 "2014-07-05T05:59:57Z")
> [@RealityChuck](#): > > [The Ballad of Eskimo Nell.](http://low.net.au/eskimo.html) > Is badass and bawdy as hell. > **The writer’s unknown** > But your minds will be blown > By the poem too dirty to tell. According to some, _EN_ was thought up by Noel Coward and chums of his, in the course of a drunken evening in Paris… ---
**Author:** ![vontsira](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/v/51bf81/32.png) [@vontsira](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/vontsira)\ **Post date:** [July 5, 2014, 6:15am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/110 "2014-07-05T06:15:29Z")
I’d recommend “Naseby” by Thomas Babbington Macaulay: in the words supposedly of a zealous Parliamentarian soldier who had taken part in that victory for the Parliament side in the English Civil War. Some sample verses: Oh ! Wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the north, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout? And whence be the grapes of the winepress that you tread? Oh ! Evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, And crimson was the juice of the winepress that we trod: For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God. * * * They are here – they rush on – they are broken – we are gone – Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast. O Lord, put forth thy might ! O Lord, defend the right ! Stand back to back, in God’s name ! And fight it to the last ! Stout Skippen hath a wound – the centre hath given ground – Hark ! Hark ! What means the trampling of horsemen in our rear? Whose banner do I see, boys? 'Tis he ! thank God ! 'tis he, boys ! Bear up another minute ! Brave Oliver is here ! Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row: Like a whirlwind on the trees, like a deluge on the dikes, Our curassiers have burst on the ranks of the accurst, And at a shock have scattered the forest of his pikes. IMO stirring stuff, whichever side (if either) one favours in that conflict. (I can think of one SDMB participant, extremely anti-Parliamentarian, who might well not agree there.) ---
**Author:** ![Boulter\_s\_Canary](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/e79b87/32.png) [@Boulter\_s\_Canary](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Boulter_s_Canary)\ **Post date:** [July 5, 2014, 8:23pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/111 "2014-07-05T20:23:11Z")
The last few stanzas of the traditional ballad “The Death of Young Andrew” (Martin Carthy’s version). And up they rose these seven brothers And they chased him deep into Wales There they caught him by such a wile That now he must tell no more such tales For there he stood this young Andrew Like any fox they ringed him round Crying We’ve not come for our father But for the sister you done down Two of them they broke his legs And two of them broke his collar bone And two of them broke his two arms They leaned him back all against a stone And up and rose the eldest one Saying See the pity we show thee For you ne’er shed our sister’s blood So we’ll not do that unto thee And they took up their father’s gold And they laid it out in young Andrew’s sight Saying, Guard this well ye young Andrew Defend it well from the wolves tonight And they have left this young Andrew As naked as the day he’s born Saying Men have stripped you to the skin But the wolves will strip you to the bone A similar sort of thing ny Kipling: Heriot’s Ford “WHAT’S that that hirples at my side?” _The foe that you must fight, my lord._ “That rides as fast as I can ride?” \*The shadow of your might, my lord. \* “Then wheel my horse against the foe!” \*He’s down and overpast, my lord. You war against the sunset-glow, The judgment follows fast, my lord! \* “Oh who will stay the sun’s descent?” _King Joshua he is dead, my lord._ “I need an hour to repent!” _’Tis what our sister said, my lord._ “Oh do not slay me in my sins!” \*You’re safe awhile with us, my lord. \* “Nay, kill me ere my fear begins!” \*We would not serve you thus, my lord. \* “Where is the doom that I must face?” \*Three little leagues away, my lord. \* “Then mend the horses’ laggard pace!” _We need them for next day, my lord._ “Next day—next day! Unloose my cords!” _Our sister needed none, my lord._ \*You had no mind to face our swords, And—where can cowards run, my lord? \* “You would not kill the soul alive?” _’Twas thus our sister cried, my lord._ “I dare not die with none to shrive.” _But so our sister died, my lord._ “Then wipe the sweat from brow and cheek.” \*It runnels forth afresh, my lord. \* “Uphold me—for the flesh is weak.” \*You ’ve finished with the Flesh, my lord! \* ---
**Author:** ![Boulter\_s\_Canary](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/b/e79b87/32.png) [@Boulter\_s\_Canary](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Boulter_s_Canary)\ **Post date:** [July 5, 2014, 8:28pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/112 "2014-07-05T20:28:18Z")
> [@Dendarii\_Dame](#): > > Clipper Ships and Captains by Rosemary and Stephen Vincent Benet > There was a time before our time, > It will not come again, > When the best ships still were wooden ships > But the men were iron men. > > Read the rest of it: > > [http://www.constitutional.net/099.html](http://www.constitutional.net/099.html) Also on the subject of tall ships: The Tea Clipper Kathleen Tardif O fair she was to look on, as some spirit of the sea. When she raced from China homeward, with her freight of fragrant tea And the shining swift bonito and the wide-winged albatross Claimed kinship with the clipper beneath the Southern Cross. Close-hauled, with shortened canvas, swift and plunging she could sweep Through the gale that rose to bar her wild pathway across the deep; And before the gale blew over, half her drenched and driven crew, To the tune of Reuben Ranzo, hoisted topsail yards anew. From the haven of the present she has cleared and slipped away, Loaded deep and running free for the port of yesterday. And the cargo that she carried, ah! it was not China tea. She took with her all the glamour and the romance of the sea. ---
**Author:** ![BobArrgh](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/bobarrgh/32/2881_2.png) [@BobArrgh](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/BobArrgh)\ **Post date:** [July 6, 2014, 6:56pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/113 "2014-07-06T18:56:20Z")
Man, this thread has really brought up a great, nostalgic feeling. When I was a kid, I had some big book of poetry, and many of these poems were in there. I especially loved _The Highwayman_, and can even recall the picture of the girl tied to the bedpost with the gun. That was some pretty heavy reading for a six-year-old. ---
**Author:** ![Elendil\_s\_Heir](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/e/7cd45c/32.png) [@Elendil\_s\_Heir](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Elendil_s_Heir)\ **Post date:** [July 24, 2014, 10:04pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/114 "2014-07-24T22:04:29Z")
Many of my favorites already mentioned. I’ll add: **All that is gold does not glitter** by J.R.R. Tolkien All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. **Washington’s Monument, February 1885** by Walt Whitman Ah, not this marble, dead and cold: Far from its base and shaft expanding–the round zones circling, comprehending, Thou, Washington, art all the world’s, the continents’ entire–not yours alone, America, Europe’s as well, in every part, castle of lord or laborer’s cot, Or frozen North, or sultry South–the African’s–the Arab’s in his tent, Old Asia’s there with venerable smile, seated amid her ruins; (Greets the antique the hero new? ‘tis but the same–the heir legitimate, continued ever, The indomitable heart and arm–proofs of the never-broken line, Courage, alertness, patience, faith, the same–e’en in defeat defeated not, the same) Wherever sails a ship, or house is built on land, or day or night, Through teeming cities’ streets, indoors or out, factories or farms, Now, or to come, or past–where patriot wills existed or exist, Wherever Freedom, pois’d by Toleration, sway’d by Law, Stands or is rising thy true monument. **O Captain! My Captain!** by Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. **Sea Fever** by John Masefield I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking, I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying. I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over. **In Prison Cell I Sadly Sit** by Harry Harbord “Breaker” Morant (last poem) In prison cell I sadly sit, A dammed crestfallen chappie, And own to you I feel a bit– A little bit – unhappy. It really ain’t the place nor time To reel off rhyming diction; But yet we’ll write a final rhyme While waiting crucifixion. No matter what end they decide Quick-lime? or boiling oil? sir We’ll do our best when crucified To finish off in style, sir! But we bequeath a parting tip For sound advice of such men Who come across in transport ship To polish off the Dutchmen. If you encounter any Boers You really must not loot ‘em, And, if you wish to leave these shores, For pity’s sake, don’t shoot ‘em. And if you’d earn a D.S.O., Why every British sinner Should know the proper way to go Is: Ask the Boer to dinner. Let’s toss a bumper down our throat Before we pass to heaven, And toast: “The trim-set petticoat We leave behind in Devon.” **Epitaph to the Spartans at Themopylae** by Simonides Go tell them in Sparta, passerby, That here, obedient to their laws, we lie. ---
**Author:** ![Dangerosa](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/22d042/32.png) [@Dangerosa](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Dangerosa)\ **Post date:** [July 24, 2014, 10:26pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/115 "2014-07-24T22:26:06Z")
Stephen Crane - its all free verse though. I think Stephen Crane is about the perfect angsty teenager poet. In the Desert BY STEPHEN CRANE In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it “Because it is bitter, “And because it is my heart.” or War Is Kind Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, Little souls who thirst for fight, These men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above them, Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom – A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep, babe, for war is kind. Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, Raged at his breast, gulped and died, Do not weep. War is kind. Swift blazing flag of the regiment, Eagle with crest of red and gold, These men were born to drill and die. Point for them the virtue of slaughter, Make plain to them the excellence of killing And a field where a thousand corpses lie. Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind. ---
**Author:** ![Cloudhidden](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/c/c2a13f/32.png) [@Cloudhidden](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Cloudhidden)\ **Post date:** [June 18, 2017, 12:12pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/116 "2017-06-18T12:12:46Z")
THE LAST HERO G.K. Chesterson The wind blew out from Bergen from the dawning to the day, There was a wreck of trees and fall of towers a score of miles away, And drifted like a livid leaf I go before its tide, Spewed out of house and stable, beggared of flag and bride. The heavens are bowed about my head, shouting like seraph wars. With rains that might put out the sun and clean the sky of stars, Rains like the fall of ruined seas from secret worlds above, The roaring of the rains of God none but the lonely love. Feast in my hall, O foemen, and eat and drink and drain, You never loved the sun in heaven as I have loved the rain. The chance of battle changes—so may all battle be; I stole my lady bride from them, they stole her back from me. I rent her from her red-roofed hall, I rode and saw arise More lovely than the living flowers the hatred in her eyes. She never loved me, never bent, never was less divine; The sunset never loved me; the wind was never mine. Was it all nothing that she stood imperial in duresse? Silence itself made softer with the sweeping of her dress. O you who drain the cup of life, O you who wear the crown, You never loved a woman’s smile as I have loved her frown. The wind blew out from Bergen from the dawning to the day, They ride and run with fifty spears to break and bar my way, I shall not die alone, alone, but kin to all the powers. As merry as the ancient sun and fighting like the flowers. How white their steel, how bright their eyes! I love each laughing knave. Cry high and bid him welcome to the banquet of the brave. Yea, I will bless them as they bend and love them where they lie, When on their skulls the sword I swing falls shattering from the sky. The hour when death is like a light and blood is like a rose,— You never loved your friends, my friends, as I shall love my foes. Know you what earth shall lose to-night, what rich, uncounted loans, What heavy gold of tales untold you bury with my bones? My loves in deep dim meadows, my ships that rode at ease, Ruffling the purple plumage of strange and secret seas. To see this fair earth as it is to me alone was given, The blow that breaks my brow to-night shall break the dome of heaven. The skies I saw, the trees I saw after no eyes shall see. To-night I die the death of God; the stars shall die with me: One sound shall sunder all the spears and break the trumpet’s breath: You never laughed in all your life as I shall laugh in death. ---
**Author:** ![Chronos](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/chronos/32/134_2.png) [@Chronos](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Chronos)\ **Post date:** [June 18, 2017, 12:23pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/117 "2017-06-18T12:23:20Z")
[Moderating] Just a reminder, by the way, to not post copyrighted material. The past couple of posts are both old enough to be public domain, so that’s not a problem, but I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression from them and posting the full text of a poem that’s still in copyright. ---
**Author:** ![davida03801](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/d/b5e925/32.png) [@davida03801](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/davida03801)\ **Post date:** [June 18, 2017, 1:33pm UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/118 "2017-06-18T13:33:56Z")
Kipling **The Sea Wife** There dwells a wife by the Northern Gate, And a wealthy wife is she; She breeds a breed o’ rovin’ men And casts them over sea. And some are drowned in deep water, And some in sight o’ shore, And word goes back to the weary wife And ever she sends more. For since that wife had gate or gear, Or hearth or garth or bield, She willed her sons to the white harvest, And that is a bitter yield. She wills her sons to the wet ploughing, To ride the horse of tree, And syne her sons come back again Far-spent from out the sea. The good wife’s sons come home again With little into their hands, But the lore of men that ha’ dealt with men In the new and naked lands; But the faith of men that ha’ brothered men By more than easy breath, And the eyes o’ men that ha’ read wi’ men In the open books of death. Rich are they, rich in wonders seen, But poor in the goods o’ men; So what they ha’ got by the skin o’ their teeth They sell for their teeth again. For whether they lose to the naked life Or win to their hearts’ desire, They tell it all to the weary wife That nods beside the fire. Her hearth is wide to every wind That makes the white ash spin; And tide and tide and 'tween the tides Her sons go out and in; (Out with great mirth that do desire Hazard of trackless ways, In with content to wait their watch And warm before the blaze); And some return by failing light, And some in waking dream, For she hears the heels of the dripping ghosts That ride the rough roof-beam. Home, they come home from all the ports, The living and the dead; The good wife’s sons come home again For her blessing on their head! ---
**Author:** ![jaycat](https://sea3.discourse-cdn.com/straightdope/user_avatar/boards.straightdope.com/jaycat/32/3015_2.png) [@jaycat](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/jaycat)\ **Post date:** [June 19, 2017, 12:53am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/119 "2017-06-19T00:53:59Z")
William H. Davies, “The Two Children.” Really creepy. > **[The Collected Poems of William H. Davies](https://books.google.com/books?id=53koAQAAIAAJ&pg=PA44&lpg=PA44&dq=poem%2Bthe%2Bboy%2Bwho%2Bdigs%2Bhis%2Bgrave%2Bthe%2Bgirl%2Bwho%2Bknits%2Bher%2Bshroud&source=bl&ots=fHzOBIje6B&sig=Q1GZ-nTib5Fk9-VZf5kvQH0320M&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjArePK2MjUAhWJWSYKHXljAx8Q6AEIMzAD#v=onepage&q=poem%20the%20boy%20who%20digs%20his%20grave%20the%20girl%20who%20knits%20her%20shroud&f=false)** ---
**Author:** ![Ukulele\_Ike](https://avatars.discourse-cdn.com/v4/letter/u/df788c/32.png) [@Ukulele\_Ike](https://boards.straightdope.com/u/Ukulele_Ike)\ **Post date:** [June 19, 2017, 1:56am UTC](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382/120 "2017-06-19T01:56:09Z")
> [@jaycat](#): > > William H. Davies, “The Two Children.” Really creepy. > > [The Collected Poems of William H. Davies: With a Portrait - William Henry Davies - Google Books](https://books.google.com/books?id=53koAQAAIAAJ&pg=PA44&lpg=PA44&dq=poem+the+boy+who+digs+his+grave+the+girl+who+knits+her+shroud&source=bl&ots=fHzOBIje6B&sig=Q1GZ-nTib5Fk9-VZf5kvQH0320M&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjArePK2MjUAhWJWSYKHXljAx8Q6AEIMzAD#v=onepage&q=poem%20the%20boy%20who%20digs%20his%20grave%20the%20girl%20who%20knits%20her%20shroud&f=false) Ooooooo wow. Thank you for that. I live for these sorts of poems. [Previous page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382.md?page=5) [Next page](https://boards.straightdope.com/t/absolutely-badass-old-poems/691382.md?page=7)