The Marmozet

The species Man and Marmozet
Are intimately linked;
The Marmozet survives as yet,
But Men are all extinct.

Hilaire Belloc

Hilaire Belloc was an Anglo-French writer and historian, known for his poetry, essays, and children's books. Born on July 27, 1870, in France, he became a British citizen and was a prominent figure in early 20th-century British literature. Belloc was a devout Catholic, which significantly influenced his writings. He was a close friend of G.K. Chesterton and shared similar views on social and political issues. Belloc passed away on July 16, 1953, leaving behind a rich legacy of literary works.

Hilaire Belloc

The Whale

Hilaire Belloc, Simple Poetry

Heroic Poem In Praise Of Wine

Hilaire Belloc, Simple Poetry

The Birds

Hilaire Belloc, 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.

The Microbe

The Microbe is so very small
You cannot make him out at all,
But many sanguine people hope
To see him through a microscope.
His jointed tongue that lies beneath
A hundred curious rows of teeth;
His seven tufted tails with lots
Of lovely pink and purple spots,
On each of which a pattern stands,
Composed of forty separate bands;
His eyebrows of a tender green;
All these have never yet been seen,
But Scientists, who ought to know,
Assure us that they must be so....
Oh! let us never, never doubt
What nobody is sure about!

Hilaire Belloc

Man's Place In Nature, Dedicated To Darwin And Huxley

They told him gently he was made
    Of nicely tempered mud,
That man no lengthened part had played
    Anterior to the Flood.
'Twas all in vain; he heeded not,
    Referring plant and worm,
Fish, reptile, ape, and Hottentot,
    To one primordial germ.

They asked him whether he could bear
    To think his kind allied
To all those brutal forms which were
    In structure Pithecoid;
Whether he thought the apes and us
    Homologous in form;
He said, "Homo and Pithecus
    Came from one common germ."

They called him "atheistical,"
    "Sceptic," and "infidel."
They swore his doctrines without fail
    Would plunge him into hell.
But he with proofs in no way lame,
    Made this deduction firm,
That all organic beings came...

Unknown

A Parisian Episode

Upon Bottle Miche the autre day
While yet the nuit was early,
Je met a homme whose barbe was grey,
Whose cheveaux long and curly.


"Je am a poete, sir," dit he,
"Je live where tres grande want teems
I'm faim, sir. Sil vous plait give me

Un franc or cinquatite centimes."

I donne him vingt big copper sous
But dit, "You moderne rhymers
The sacre poet name abuse

Les poets were old timers."

"Je know! I know!" he wept, contrite;
"The bards no more suis mighty:
Ils rise no more in eleve flight,
Though some are beaucoup flighty.


...

Ellis Parker Butler

Anticipated Meeting Of The British Association In The Year 1836.

After some observations from Dr. M'Grig
On that fossil reliquium called Petrified Wig,
Or Perruquolithus--a specimen rare
Of those wigs made for antediluvian wear,
Which, it seems, stood the Flood without turning a hair--
Mr. Tomkins rose up, and requested attention
To facts no less wondrous which he had to mention.

Some large fossil creatures had lately been found,
Of a species no longer now seen above ground,
But the same (as to Tomkins most clearly appears)
With those animals, lost now for hundreds of years,
Which our ancestors used to call "Bishops" and "Peers,"
But which Tomkins more erudite names has bestowed on,
Having called the Peer fossil the Aris-tocratodon,^[1]
And, finding much food under t'other one's thorax,
Has christen...

Thomas Moore

The Menagerie

        Thank God my brain is not inclined to cut
        Such capers every day! I 'm just about
        Mellow, but then--There goes the tent-flap shut.
        Rain 's in the wind. I thought so: every snout
        Was twitching when the keeper turned me out.

        That screaming parrot makes my blood run cold.
        Gabriel's trump! the big bull elephant
        Squeals "Rain!" to the parched herd. The monkeys scold,
        And jabber that it 's rain water they want.
        (It makes me sick to see a monkey pant.)

        I 'll foot it home, to try and make believe
        I 'm sober. After this I stick to beer,
        And drop the circus when the sane folks leave.
        A man 's a fool to look at things too near:
        They look back, and begi...

William Vaughn Moody

Roses And Butterflies.

("Roses et Papillons.")

[XXVII., Dec. 7, 1834.]


The grave receives us all:
Ye butterflies and roses gay and sweet
Why do ye linger, say?
Will ye not dwell together as is meet?
Somewhere high in the air
Would thy wing seek a home 'mid sunny skies,
In mead or mossy dell -
If there thy odors longest, sweetest rise.

Have where ye will your dwelling,
Or breath or tint whose praise we sing;
Butterfly shining bright,
Full-blown or bursting rosebud, flow'r or wing.
Dwell together ye fair,
'Tis a boon to the loveliest given;
Perchance ye then may choose your home
On the earth or in heaven.

W.C. WESTBROOK

Victor-Marie Hugo