Poems with rhymes of nine

With the wind's cool lips on mine,
I went home from the Rabitty Field
As the clocks were striking nine.

What cunning neighbors history has in fine!
The woodlouse mortgages the ancient deal
Table that Powitzky buys for only nine-

Yet I feel twenty-nine
My appetite is excellent
And I do enjoy my wine.

ATTEND my lays, ye ever honour'd nine,
Assist my labours, and my strains refine;

"Garcon, a cafè creme." I'll stay till nine. . .
The cafè's empty, just an oldish chap
Who's sitting at the table next to mine. . .

The fairest castle of the nine!
Wait only till the stars peep out,
The fairest shall be thine:

Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

They burn before her shrine;
And that's because I'm seventeen
And She is forty-nine.

Long had our dull Fore-Fathers slept Supine,
Nor felt the Raptures of the Tuneful Nine;

Else of our sex why feignéd they those Nine,
And Posey made Calliope's own child?
So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts Divine.

'Tis not the sacred wealth of all the Nine
Can buy my heart from him, or his from being mine.

She phoned them when the Round was Nine:
'How is my hero in the fray?'
They yelled: 'He leads; he's doing fine,--

It's ninety years and nine!-
Oh, never I thought that Death could lay
His terrible hand in mine.

Descended the celestial nine;
O'er me methought they deign'd to shine,

Forsaken by th'inspiring Nine,
I waited at Apollo's shrine:

With the back of her head on the line
He knelt by her side, put his ear to her chest,
And told her to say " ninety-nine."

Let me think any rival's letter mine,
And at next nine

The Tongans made great efforts to reach the All Blacks line
But the match went to the champions forty-seven points to nine.

I said I relished Satire Nine
Of the First Book;
But he had skipped to the divine

Wuz you him that went prospectin' in the spring of sixty-nine
In the Red Hoss mountain country for the Gosh-All-Hemlock Mine?