Poems begining by A
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Absence And Love
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WE need the clasp of hand in hand,
The light flashed warm from neighboring eyes:
Or else as weary seasons pass--
Alas! alas!
Our tenderest love grows wan and dies.
Autumn Sonnet
© Charles Baudelaire
Your eyes, clear as crystal, ask me: Strange lover,
what do I mean to you?- Hush, and be charming!
My heart, irritated by all but the one thing,
the primitive creatures absolute candour,
Across The fields
© Hermann Hesse
Across the sky, the clouds move,
Across the fields, the wind,
Across the fields the lost child
Of my mother wanders.
Arab Songs
© Padraic Colum
Men come to me : one says
'We have given your verses praise,
And we will keep your name abreast of the newer names;
But you must make what accords
With poems that are household words
Your own: write familiar things; to your hundred add a score.'
A Rejected Lover
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
You "never loved me," Ada. These slow words
Dropped softly from your gentle woman-tongue
Out of your true and kindly woman-heart,
Fell, piercing into mine like very swords
A Prophecy: To George Keats In America
© John Keats
'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
Amor Mysticus
© John Hay
Let them say to my Lover
That here I lie!
The thing of His pleasure,
His slave am I.
An Arrow-Slit
© Jean Ingelow
I clomb full high the belfry tower
Up to yon arrow-slit, up and away,
I said 'let me look on my heart's fair flower
In the walled garden where she doth play.'
A New Baby In The House
© Edgar Albert Guest
Something to talk about, something to do,
Something to laugh at the whole day through,
A Father's Fear.
© Robert Crawford
The little feet that run to me,
The little hands that strive
To touch me at the heart, and find
The heart in me alive:
After Paul Verlaine-IV
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
The sky is up above the roof
So blue, so soft!
A tree there, up above the roof,
Swayeth aloft.
A Woeful New Ballad Of The Protestant Conspiracy To Take The Popes Life
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Come all ye Christian people, unto my tale give ear,
'Tis about a base consperracy, as quickly shall appear;
'Twill make your hair to bristle up, and your eyes to start and glow,
When of this dread consperracy you honest folks shall know.
A Dead March
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
PLAY me a march, low-tond and slowa march for a silent tread,
Fit for the wandering feet of one who dreams of the silent dead,
A Lown Nicht
© George MacDonald
Rose o' my hert,
Open yer leaves to the lampin mune;
Into the curls lat her keek an' dert,
She'll tak the colour but gie ye tune.
Alas! This Is Not What I Thought Life Was
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Alas! this is not what I thought life was.
I knew that there were crimes and evil men,
Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass
Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen.
