The Day Is Done

The day ban done, and darkness
Falling from vengs of night,
Lak fedder flying from ruster,
Ven he ban having fight.
Ay see the lights of willage
Shining tru rain and mist,
And ay skol feel dam sleepy,
Lak fallers playing whist.

Come, read tu me some werses,
Ay ant care vat yu read,
Yust so it ant 'bout trouble
Or hearts vich ache and bleed.
Ay lak dese har nice yingles
'Bout sun and trees and grass;
But, ven it com to heartache,
Yerusalem! ay skol pass!

Read from some humble geezer,
Whose songs ban sveet to hear -
Who making, from his poetry,
'Bout saxteen cents a year.
Ay lak to hear his yingles,
Ay tell yu, dey ban fine;
Dis har ban vy ay lak dem -
Dey ban so much lak mine.

Such songs have gude, nice sound -
Dey making sorrow fly;
Dey coming lak glass of seltzer
Vich follows drenk of rye.
And night skol be full of music,
And tengs we lak to forget
Skol fold op tents lak yipsies,
And sneaking avay, yu bet!

William F. Kirk

William F. Kirk was an American poet and writer, known for his humorous and satirical works. His poetry often reflected the everyday lives and struggles of ordinary people, presented in a light-hearted yet insightful manner. Kirk also wrote prose, contributing to various newspapers and magazines. His works were widely appreciated for their wit and relatability, making him a popular figure in early 20th-century American literature.

William F. Kirk

Abou Swen Anson

William F. Kirk, Simple Poetry

George Washington

William F. Kirk, Simple Poetry

Peek-A-Boo

William F. Kirk, Simple Poetry

William Tell

William F. Kirk, 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.

Curfew Shall Not Ring To-Night

England's sun ban slowly setting on big hilltops far avay;
Dis bar sun ban tired of standing, so it lak to set, yu say;
And yust ven dis sun ban setting, it shine hard on Yosephine;
She ban talking to the sexton, and ban feeling purty mean.
"Now," she tal him, "yust be careful,... ay skol fix it op all right;
Yust one teng ay lak to tal yu, Curfew skol not reng to-night!"

Val, the sun yust keep on setting, and the sexton start for bell.
"Vait a minute!" Yosie tal him; sexton answer, "Vat to 'ell?"
"Val," she say, "ay having sveetheart who ban over har in yail,
Ay ban vorking hard for money, nuff so ay can pay his bail;
But it ant no use to du it, and dis har old yudge skol write
That he dies ven bell start going. Curfew skol not reng to-night!"

Den, yu say, dis maeste...

William F. Kirk

The "Lumberyack"

"Roll out!" yell cookee
"It ban morning," say he,
"It ban daylight in svamps, all yu guys!"
So out of varm bunk
Ve skol falling kerplunk,
And rubbing lak blazes our eyes.
Breakfast, den hustle; dinner, den yump!
Lumberyack faller ban yolly big chump.

"Eat qvick!" say the cook.
"Oder fallers skol look
For chance to get grub yust lak yu!"
So under our yeans
Ve pack planty beans,
And Yim dandy buckvheat cakes, tu.
Den out on the skidvay, vorking lak mule.
Lumberyack faller ban yolly big fule.

"Vatch out!" foreman say.
Den tree fall yure vay,
And missing yure head 'bout an inch.
Ef timber ban green,
Ve skol rub kerosene
On places var coss cut skol pinch.
Sawing and chopping, freeze and den sveat.
Lumberyack faller ban...

William F. Kirk

The Day Is Done

The day is done, and the darkness
    Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
    From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
    Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
    That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
    That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
    As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
    Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
    And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
    Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
    Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
    The...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Barefoot Boy

Blessings on yu, little man!
Barefoot boy, ay tenk yu can
Getting all yu lak, by yee!
Yu ban gude enuff for me.
Yu ant got so many clo'es,
Dar ban freckles on yure nose,
And ay guess yu're purty tuff,
'Cause yu ask for chew of snuff.
But, by yinks, ay lak yure face,
Yu can passing any place.

Barefoot boy, ef ay could du
Yenuine po'try lak the kind
Maester Vittier wrote for yu,
Ay vould write; but never mind,
Ay can tal yu vat ay know,
Even ef dese vords ant flow
Half so slick sum poet's song.
Anyhow, ay don't mean wrong.
Ven ay see yu, little kid,
Ay skol taking off my lid.
Oder little boys ay see
Ant look half so gude to me.

Some of dem ban rich men's boys,
Who ban having planty toys,
Vearing nicest clo'es i...

William F. Kirk

It's Up To You

Ay s'pose yu tenk life ban hard game.
Ay guess yu lak to qvit, perhaps.
Ay hear yu say, "It ban a shame
To see so many lucky chaps."
Yu say, "Dese guys ban mostly yaps:
Ay vish ay had some money, tu,
And not get all dese gude hard raps."
Val, Maester, it ban op to yu.

Sometimes ay s'pose yu vork long hours,
And ant get wery fancy pay;
Den yu can't buying stacks of flowers
And feed yure girl in gude café,
And drenk yin rickies and frappé.
Oh, yes! dis mak yu purty blue.
Yu lak to have more fun, yu say?
Val, Maester, it ban op to yu.

Dis vorld ant got much room to spare
For men vich make dis hard-luck cry, -
'Bout von square foot vile dey ban har,
And six feet after dey skol die.
Time "fugit," - high-school vord for "fly";
An...

William F. Kirk

A Banjo Song

Oh, dere 's lots o' keer an' trouble
In dis world to swaller down;
An' ol' Sorrer 's purty lively
In her way o' gittin' roun'.
Yet dere's times when I furgit em,--
Aches an' pains an' troubles all,--
An' it's when I tek at ebenin'
My ol' banjo f'om de wall.

'Bout de time dat night is fallin'
An' my daily wu'k is done,
An' above de shady hilltops
I kin see de settin' sun;
When de quiet, restful shadders
Is beginnin' jes' to fall,--
Den I take de little banjo
F'om its place upon de wall.

Den my fam'ly gadders roun' me
In de fadin' o' de light,
Ez I strike de strings to try 'em
Ef dey all is tuned er-right.
An' it seems we 're so nigh heaben
We kin hyeah de angels sing
When de music o' dat banjo
Sets my cabin all er-...

Paul Laurence Dunbar