Poems with rhymes of Rhyme Page #7

The poets' age no longer sets their rhyme,
Now, in the sweep of country plots and roads,
Lermontov is rhymed with summertime,

A sorrow to one in an alien clime,
Let the light of the melody fall on the heart,
And cadence his grief into musical rhyme.

Swift had the sin of wit, no venial crime:
Nay, 'twas affirm'd, he sometimes dealt in rhyme;

And, like a never-ending rhyme,
The roadsides bloom in his applause,
Who bides his time.

Beneath, an' a book of rhyme,
An' a cuddlemsome girl that sings a bit,
But don't sing all the time:

And glory for all time
Keep the boy Tom who tending geese
First made the nursery rhyme.

Yet, if my eager hand, in haste to rhyme,
Should tack an empty couplet at a time,

Yes, dreary as we own our Northern clime,
E'en we to Phoebus raise the polish'd rhyme,

But when? Ah well, until that time
We'll habit in this house of rhyme.

but for now I'll take it one step at a time
choose to succeed & that's it for this rhyme

To build his lofty rhyme
On lordly eggs-and-bacon,
And sausages sublime.

Oh, that was at the birth of time!
But what befell 'twixt man and maid,
Oh, that's beyond the grip of rhyme.

Who boast no merit but mere knack of rhyme,
Short gleams of sense, and satire out of time;

O, let me seize thy pen sublime
That paints, in melting dulcet rhyme,

When it did seem as if the feet of time
Moved to the music of a golden rhyme,

To a mother-goose rhyme!
Oh, but we were happy
For half an hour's time!

moment of leisure time,
The chill susurrus of cocktail ice in an adequae
piece of rhyme.

How many ages in time?
No one knows the rhyme.

Of magic keep me safe to rhyme
In this Heaven beyond my time.

And all the people culling the sweet prime:
Then issues forth the bee to clutch the thyme,
And the bee poet rushes into rhyme.