Gilbert Keith Chesterton

(29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936 / London, England)

Gilbert Keith Chesterton Poems

1. Sonnet With The Compliments Of The Season 10/24/2014
2. Alliterativism 10/24/2014
3. Confessional 10/24/2014
4. To Edmund Clerihew Bentley 10/24/2014
5. This Is The Sort Of Book We Like 10/24/2014
6. The Song Of Elf 10/24/2014
7. When Fishes Flew 10/24/2014
8. Modern Elfland 4/15/2012
9. Tribute To Gladstone 4/15/2012
10. Rotarians 4/15/2012
11. The New Omar 1/1/2004
12. The Horrible History Of Jones 4/15/2012
13. The Modern Manichee 4/15/2012
14. The Song Of The Wheels 4/15/2012
15. The Philanthropist 4/15/2012
16. Jealousy 4/15/2012
17. Songs Of Education 4/15/2012
18. The Praise Of Dust 4/15/2012
19. St, Francis Xavier 4/15/2012
20. The Mystery 4/15/2012
21. To St. Micheal In Time Of Peace 4/15/2012
22. Here Is The Little Door 4/15/2012
23. The Wise Men 4/15/2012
24. The New Fiction 4/15/2012
25. The Judgement Of England 4/15/2012
26. The Song Of The Oak 1/1/2004
27. A Ballade Of An Anti-Puritan 4/15/2012
28. The Ballad Of St. Barbara 4/15/2012
29. A Ballad Of Theatricals 4/15/2012
30. The Myth Of Arthur 1/1/2004
31. The Ballad Of God-Makers 4/15/2012
32. A Christmas Carol 4/15/2012
33. Cyclopean 4/15/2012
34. The Wife Of Flanders 1/1/2004
35. A Broad Minded Bishop Rebukes The Verminous St. Francis 4/15/2012
36. Variations Of An Air 1/1/2004
37. A Ballad Of Abbreviations 4/15/2012
38. A Word 4/15/2012
39. The Holy Of Holies 1/1/2004
40. The Road To Roundabout 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Gilbert Keith Chesterton

The Rolling English Road

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard ...

Read the full of The Rolling English Road

The Great Minimum

It is something to have wept as we have wept,
It is something to have done as we have done,
It is something to have watched when all men slept,
And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose,
Although it break and leave the thorny rods,
It is something to have hungered once as those
Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

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