Poems begining by A
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Aquarius
© Gotlieb Phyllis
The slow clock whorls of snailsmark time here; such calendarspatterned earlier dark oozeinto reluctant longitudes.
A Female I by Name
© Gifford Humphrey
A female I by name Am sister to a brother:In all the world may not be found Our like, nor one nor other
A Sonnet of Faith
© William Gay
I am not daunted by the show of things,Nor do I pass them with averted eyes,Feigning I do not see, nor on the wingsOf fair deluding fancy lightly riseAnd from afar the radiant world beholdIn happy silence spinning smoothly by
Australian Federation
© William Gay
From all division let our land be free, For God has made her one: complete she lies Within the unbroken circle of the skies,And round her indivisible the seaBreaks on her single shore; while only we, Her foster children, bound with sacred ties Of one dear blood, one storied enterprise,Are negligent of her integrity
Australia
© William Gay
She sits a queen whom none shall dare despoil, Her crown the sun, her guard the vigilant sea, And round her throne are gathered, stalwart, free,A people proud, yet stooping to the soil,Patient to swell her greatness with their toil, And swift to leave, should dire occasion be, The mine, the flock, the desk, the furrowed lea,And force the invader to a dark recoil
A Scottish Welcome
© Galt John
And is it you, and are you come?Sit down, sit down in bye;Get up and pierce the bowie, Kate,This night we'll drink it dry.
‘Ach, I Dunno!’
© William Percy French
I'm simply surrounded by lovers, Since Da made his fortune in land;They're comin' in crowds like the plovers To ax for me hand
Abdul Abulbul Ameer
© William Percy French
The sons of the Prophet are brave men and boldAnd quite unaccustomed to fearBut the bravest by far in the ranks of the ShahWas Abdul Abulbul Ameer
A Girl Strike-leader
© Frank Florence Kiper
A white-faced, stubborn little thingWhose years are not quite twenty years;Eyes steely now and done with tears,Mouth scornful of its suffering --
Ah, Silly Pug, wert thou so Sore Afraid
© Elizabeth I
Ah, silly Pug, wert thou so sore afraid?Mourn not, my Wat, nor be thou so dismayed
A Sea of Foliage Girds our Garden round
© Toru Dutt
A sea of foliage girds our garden round, But not a sea of dull unvaried green, Sharp contrasts of all colors here are seen;The light-green graceful tamarinds aboundAmid the mango clumps of green profound, And palms arise, like pillars gray, between; And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,Red-red, and startling like a trumpet's sound
An Evening Contemplation in a College
© Duncombe John
The Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates,With jarring sound the porter turns the key,Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits,And slowly, sternly quits it -- tho' for me.
Alexander's Feast
© John Dryden
I By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne; His valiant peers were plac'd around;Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound: (So should desert in arms be crown'd
A Parable
© Doyle Arthur Conan
The cheese-mites asked how the cheese got there, And warmly debated the matter;The Orthodox said that it came from the air, And the Heretics said from the platter
A Lay of the Links
© Doyle Arthur Conan
It's up and away from our work to-day, For the breeze sweeps over the down;And it's hey for a game where the gorse blossoms flame, And the bracken is bronzing to brown
A Hymne to Christ, at the Authors last going into Germany
© John Donne
In what torne ship soever I embarke,That ship shall be my embleme of thy Arke;What sea soever swallow mee, that floodShall be to mee an embleme of thy blood;Though thou with clouds of anger do disguiseThy face; yet through that maske I know those eyes, Which, though they turne away sometimes, They never will despise
A Song of the Bar
© Dolben Digby (Mackworth)
She is only an innkeeper's daughter -- I know it, I own it with tears,And her eyes are accustomed to slaughter The ranks of the Builth volunteers.
A Nupial Eve
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
The murmur of the mourning ghost That keeps the shadowy kine,"Oh, Keith of Ravelston, The sorrows of thy line!"
