Over 14 Years Poetry

Robinson Crusoe

(original book by Daniel Defoe, this rhyme taken from "Shrinklets")

Wrecked castaway
On lonely strand
Works hard all day
To tame the land,
Takes time to pray;
Makes clothes by hand.
For eighteen years
His skill he plies,
Then lo! A footprintHe espies -
"Thank God it's Friday!"
Crusoe cries.
Take heart from his
Example, chums:
Work hard, produce;
Complete your sums;
Eventually,
Friday comes.

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from Preludes

The winter evening settles down
With smell of steaks in passageways.
Six o' clock.
The burnt-out ends of smoky days.
And now a gusty shower wraps
The grimy scraps
Of withered leaves about your feet
And newspapers from vacant lots;
The showers beat
On broken blinds and chimney-pots,
And at the corner of the street
A lonely cab-horse steams and stamps.
And then the lighting of the lamps.

T.S. Eliot.

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