Hilaire Belloc

(27 July 1870 – 16 July 1953 / La Celle-Saint-Cloud)

Hilaire Belloc Poems

1. Lord Roehampton 3/20/2015
2. [month Of] October 4/3/2010
3. The Face 4/3/2010
4. The Fragment 4/3/2010
5. The Elm 4/3/2010
6. The Bison 4/3/2010
7. Criterion 4/3/2010
8. From: Dedicatory Ode 4/3/2010
9. The False Heart 4/3/2010
10. Habitations 4/3/2010
11. The Diamond 4/3/2010
12. Fatigue 4/3/2010
13. Lord Lundy Ii - Second Canto 4/3/2010
14. [month Of] August 4/3/2010
15. The Rebel 4/3/2010
16. [month Of] January 4/3/2010
17. [month Of) July 4/3/2010
18. Her Final Role 4/3/2010
19. Epitaph On The Favourite Dog Of A Politician 4/3/2010
20. [month Of] November 4/3/2010
21. Introduction: More Beasts For Worse Children 4/3/2010
22. [month Of] May 4/3/2010
23. A Moral Alphabet (Excerpt) 4/3/2010
24. To A Rhinoceros 4/3/2010
25. An Author’s Hope 4/3/2010
26. Ballade Of Modest Confession 4/3/2010
27. The Llama 4/3/2010
28. King's Land 4/3/2010
29. Epitah On The Politician Himself 4/3/2010
30. [month Of] December 4/3/2010
31. [month Of] March 4/3/2010
32. Introduction: The Bad Child's Book Of Beasts 4/3/2010
33. Cautionary Tales For Children: Introduction 4/3/2010
34. The Mirror 4/3/2010
35. Cuckoo! 4/3/2010
36. On The Gift Of A Book To A Child 4/3/2010
37. Sarah Byng, Who Could Not Read And Was Tossed Into A Thorny Hedge By A Bull 4/3/2010
38. [month Of] June 4/3/2010
39. The Gnu 4/3/2010
40. [month Of] April 4/3/2010
Best Poem of Hilaire Belloc

Tarantella

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
Of the straw for a bedding,
And the fleas that tease in the High Pyrenees,
And the wine that tasted of tar?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
(Under the vine of the dark veranda)?
Do you remember an Inn, Miranda,
Do you remember an Inn?
And the cheers and the jeers of the young muleteers
Who hadn't got a penny,
And who weren't paying any,
And the hammer at the doors and the din?
And the hip! hop! hap!
Of the clap
Of the hands to the ...

Read the full of Tarantella

The Telephone

To-night in million-voiced London I
Was lonely as the million-pointed sky
Until your single voice. Ah! So the sun
Peoples all heaven, although he be but one.

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