By Matthew Prior I, MY dear, was born to-day– So all my jolly comrades say: They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, And ask to celebrate my birth: Little, alas! my comrades know That I was born to pain and woe; To thy denial, to thy scorn, Better I had ne’er been born: I wish Continue Reading …
Birthday Poems
Birthday poems perfect for homemade cards, letters, speeches, birthday invitations, and social media.
On His Seventy-fifth Birthday
By Walter Savage Landor I strove with none, for none was worth my strife; Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of Life; It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
On His Eightieth Birthday
By Walter Savage Landor To my ninth decade I have tottered on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.
Birthday
By Robert William Service (16th January 1949) I thank whatever gods may be For all the happiness that’s mine; That I am festive, fit and free To savour women, wit and wine; That I may game of golf enjoy, And have a formidable drive: In short, that I’m a gay old boy Though I be Continue Reading …
A Ninth Birthday
By Algernon Charles Swinburne Three times thrice hath winter’s rough white wing Crossed and curdled wells and streams with ice Since his birth whose praises love would sing Three times thrice. Earth nor sea bears flower nor pearl of price Fit to crown the forehead of my king, Honey meet to please him, balm, nor Continue Reading …
Birthday of But a Single Pang
By Emily Dickinson Birthday of but a single pang That there are less to come — Afflictive is the Adjective But affluent the doom —
466. Ode for General Washington’s Birthday
By Robert Burns NO Spartan tube, no Attic shell, No lyre Æolian I awake; ‘Tis liberty’s bold note I swell, Thy harp, Columbia, let me take! See gathering thousands, while I sing, A broken chain exulting bring, And dash it in a tyrant’s face, And dare him to his very beard, And tell him he Continue Reading …
201. Birthday Ode for 31st December, 1787
By Robert Burns AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams, Whom kingdoms on this day should hail; An inmate in the casual shed, On transient pity’s bounty fed, Haunted by busy memory’s bitter tale! Beasts of the forest have their savage homes, But He, who should imperial purple wear, Owns not the lap of earth where Continue Reading …
438. Impromptu on Mrs. Riddell’s Birthday
By Robert Burns OLD Winter, with his frosty beard, Thus once to Jove his prayer preferred: “What have I done of all the year, To bear this hated doom severe? My cheerless suns no pleasure know; Night’s horrid car drags, dreary slow; My dismal months no joys are crowning, But spleeny English hanging, drowning. “Now Continue Reading …
395. Sonnet on the Author’s Birthday
By Robert Burns SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough, Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain, See aged Winter, ‘mid his surly reign, At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow. So in lone Poverty’s dominion drear, Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart; Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part, Continue Reading …