Poems begining by A

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Afterword

© Madison Julius Cawein

_The old enthusiasms

Are dead, quite dead, in me;

O, what is that whimpering there in the darkness?
"Let him lie in my arms. He is breathing, I know.
Look. I'll wrap all my hair round his neck" - "The sea's rising,
The boat must be lightened. He's dead. He must go."

Allez, Mes Ver, Allez

© André Marie de Chénier

Allez, mes vers, allez; je me confie en vous;

Allez fléchir son coeur, désarmer son courroux;

A Meditation

© Herman Melville

How often in the years that close,
When truce had stilled the sieging gun,
The soldiers, mounting on their works,
With mutual curious glance have run
From face to face along the fronting show,
And kinsman spied, or friend--even in a foe.

A Pocket Handkerchief To Hem

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

A pocket handkerchief to hem -

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!

A Ballad Of Nursery Rhyme

© Robert Graves

Strawberries that in gardens grow
Are plump and juicy fine,
But sweeter far as wise men know
Spring from the woodland vine.

A Song Of Trafalgar

© Edith Nesbit

LIKE an angry sun, like a splendid star,

War gleams down the long years' track;

A Pitcher of Mignonette

© Henry Cuyler Bunner

A pitcher of mignonette

In a tenement's highest casement,

At The Fall Of An Age

© Robinson Jeffers

(The story of Achilles rising from the dead for love of Helen

is well enough known. That of Polyxo's vengeance may be less

A Parson's Letter To A Young Poet

© Jean Ingelow

They said: "We, rich by him, are rich by more;
One Aeschylus found watchfires on a hill
That lit Old Night's three daughters to their work;
When the forlorn Fate leaned to their red light
And sat a-spinning, to her feet he came
And marked her till she span off all her thread.

A Swinburnian Interlude

© Robert Fuller Murray

Short space shall be hereafter
Ere April brings the hour
Of weeping and of laughter,
Of sunshine and of shower,

Along The Paths O' Glory

© Edgar Albert Guest

Along the paths o' glory there are faces new to-day,
There are youthful hearts and sturdy that have found the westward way.
From the rugged roads o' duty they have turned without a sigh,
To mingle with their brothers who were not afraid to die.
And they're looking back and smiling at the loved ones left behind,
With the Old Flag flying o'er them, and they're calling "Never mind.

A Wreath Of Sonnets (2/14)

A record of my pain and of your praise
Will this be to Slovenes as yet unborn,
When moss shall grow upon my tomb forlorn,
And over all that grieves me and dismays;

A Hymn To Venus

© Sappho

O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,
Full of love-perplexing wiles;
O goddess, from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.