Hosts

Here's to the host and the hostess,
    We're honored to be here tonight;
May they both live long and prosper,
    May their star of hope ever be bright.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCLXIII. Gaffers And Gammers.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Misers

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. XCIII. Proverbs.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Thrift

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Guests

"Here's a health to thee and thine
From the hearts of me and mine;
And when thee and thine
Come to see me and mine,
May me and mine make thee and thine
As welcome as thee and thine
Have ever made me and mine."

Unknown

You

Here's to the world, the merry old world,
To its days both bright and blue;
Here's to our future, be it what it may,
And here's to my best - that's you!

Unknown

Mine Host

        There stands a hostel by a travelled way;
        Life is the road and Death the worthy host;
        Each guest he greets, nor ever lacks to say,
        "How have ye fared?"    They answer him, the most,
        "This lodging place is other than we sought;
        We had intended farther, but the gloom
        Came on apace, and found us ere we thought:
        Yet will we lodge.    Thou hast abundant room."

        Within sit haggard men that speak no word,
        No fire gleams their cheerful welcome shed;
        No voice of fellowship or strife is heard
        But silence of a multitude of dead.
        "Naught can I offer ye," quoth Death, "but rest!"
        And to his chamber leads each tired guest.

John McCrae

The Golden Wedding.

Inscribed to OUR FATHER AND MOTHER, and read on that Anniversary,
FEBRUARY 15TH, 1876.


A half a century of time,
    The mingled pain and bliss
That make the history of life
    Between that day and this;
Two lives that in that morning light,
    Together were made one,
Now standing where the shadows fall
    Athwart the setting sun.

How long it seems!--the devious way.
    And full of toil and pain,--
Yet love and peace kept house with them,
    And love and peace remain.
Though youth and strength and youthful friends
    Were left upon the road
Long since, an honest man is still
    The noblest work of God.

No famous deeds, no acts achieved
    In battle or in state
Make memorable this festal day,
    The day ...

Kate Seymour Maclean

At The Summit

Sister, we bid you welcome, - we who stand
On the high table-land;
We who have climbed life's slippery Alpine slope,
And rest, still leaning on the staff of hope,
Looking along the silent Mer de Glace,
Leading our footsteps where the dark crevasse
Yawns in the frozen sea we all must pass, -
Sister, we clasp your hand!

Rest with us in the hour that Heaven has lent
Before the swift descent.
Look! the warm sunbeams kiss the glittering ice;
See! next the snow-drift blooms the edelweiss;
The mated eagles fan the frosty air;
Life, beauty, love, around us everywhere,
And, in their time, the darkening hours that bear
Sweet memories, peace, content.

Thrice welcome! shining names our missals show
Amid their rubrics' glow,
But search the blazoned re...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

The Hanging Of The Crane

I


The lights are out, and gone are all the guests
That thronging came with merriment and jests
    To celebrate the Hanging of the Crane
In the new house,--into the night are gone;
But still the fire upon the hearth burns on,
    And I alone remain.

    O fortunate, O happy day,
    When a new household finds its place
    Among the myriad homes of earth,
    Like a new star just sprung to birth,
    And rolled on its harmonious way
    Into the boundless realms of space!

So said the guests in speech and song,
As in the chimney, burning bright,
We hung the iron crane to-night,
And merry was the feast and long.


II

And now I sit and muse on what may be,
And in my vision see, or seem to see,
    Throug...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow