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At The Zoo ( Children Poems ) By Alan Alexander Milne (1882-1956)

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                                                                              At The Zoo There are lions and roaring tigers, and enormous camels and things, There are biffalo-buffalo-bisons, and a great big bear with wings. There's a sort of a tiny potamus, and a tiny nosserus too - But I gave buns to the elephant when I went down to the Zoo! There are badgers and bidgers and bodgers, and a Super-in-tendent's House, There are masses of goats, and a Polar, and different kinds of mouse, And I think there's a sort of a something which is called a wallaboo - But I gave buns to the elephant when I went down to the Zoo! If you try to talk to the bison, he never quite understands; You can't shake hands with a mingo - he doesn't like shakin...
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Jules Laforgue - Triste, Triste (French Poem)

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Jules Laforgue - Triste, Triste This Poem is another one that expresses sorrow.The title itself means “Sad, Sad” and this work by French symbolist poet Jules Laforgue is all about contemplating sadness in life. When you’re down and troubled and need a sorrowful yet beautiful French poem to keep you company, look no further. Triste, Triste Je contemple mon feu. J'étouffe un bâillement.Le vent pleure. La pluie à ma vitre ruisselle.Un piano voisin joue une ritournelle.Comme la vie est triste et coule lentement.Je songe à notre Terre, atome d'un moment,Dans l'infini criblé d'étoiles éternelles,Au peu qu'ont déchiffré nos débiles prunelles, Au Tout qui nous est clos inexorablement. Et notre sort! toujours la même comédie, Des vices, des chagrins, le spleen, la maladie, Puis nous allons fleurir les beaux pissenlits d'or. L'Univers nous reprend, rien de nous ne subsiste, Cependant qu'ici-bas tout continue encor. Comme nous sommes seuls!...
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A Dog Has Died ( Famous Sad Poem ) By Pablo Neruda

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A Dog Has Died My dog has died. I buried him in the garden next to a rusted old machine. Some day I'll join him right there, but now he's gone with his shaggy coat, his bad manners and his cold nose, and I, the materialist, who never believed in any promised heaven in the sky for any human being, I believe in a heaven I'll never enter. Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom where my dog waits for my arrival waving his fan-like tail in friendship. Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth, of having lost a companion who was never servile. His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine withholding its authority, was the friendship of a star, aloof, with no more intimacy than was called for, with no exaggerations: he never climbed all over my clothes filling me full of his hair or his mange, he never rubbed up against my knee like other dogs obsessed with sex. No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying ...
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