Manglish - Jacinta Ramayah

We speak a language called manglish
to us it is normal,
The queen’s grammar is so precise
we’ve made it informal.

Blind Children - Israel Zangwill

Laughing, the blind boys
Run round their college lawn,
Playing such games of buff
Over its dappled grass.

The Spruce Tree - Heinrich Heine

A single spruce-tree, lonely,
On a northern mountain height,
Sleeps in a white blanket,
Draped in snow and ice.

Limits - Jorge Luis Borges

Of these streets that deepen the sunset,
There must be one (but which) that I’ve walked
Already one last time, indifferently
And without knowing it, submitting

Casabianca - Felicia Hemans

The boy stood on the burning deck
  Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
  Shone round him o'er the dead.

Mountain Life - Henrik Johan Ibsen

In summer dusk the valley lies
With far-flung shadow veil;
A cloud-sea laps the precipice
Before the evening gale:
The welter of the cloud-waves grey
Cuts off from keenest sight
The glacier, looking out by day
O'er all the district, far away,
And crowned with golden light.

Baby Girl Found - Francette Cerulli

He found her wrapped in a brown towel
Beside the highway department dumpster.
She was so cold she was blue, so new
her umbilical stump still drooped softly
from her belly like the limp stem
of some fantastic fruit.

Fair Summer Droops - Thomas Nashe

Fair summer droops, droop men and beasts therefore,
So fair a summer look for nevermore:
All good things vanish less than in a day,
Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay.
Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year,
The earth is hell when thou leav'st to appear.

The Bard - Adam Gottlob Oehlenschläger

O, GREAT was Denmark’s land in time of old!
  Wide to the south her branch of glory spread;
Fierce to the battle rushed her heroes bold,
  Eager to join the revels of the dead:
While the fond maiden flew with smiles to fold
  Round her returning warrior’s vesture red
Her arm of snow, with nobler passion fired,
When to the breast of love, exhausted, he retired.

Love for love (Jockey Fou and Jenny Fain) - Robert Burns

Ithers seek they ken na what,
Features, carriage, and a’ that;
Gie me love in her I court,
Love to love maks a’ the sport.