Poems begining by A
/ page 159 of 345 /avalanche
© Rg Gregory
all is still on this starless night
the mountain waits
quiescent as a cat
smoothing crag and chasm
to a white fur
Abolition Of Slavery In The District Of Columbia, 1862
© John Greenleaf Whittier
When first I saw our banner wave
Above the nation's council-hall,
a readers de profundis
© Rg Gregory
in my reading of the moment i have learned
the figure next to christ in da vincis last supper
(a painting i have actually seen in a milan church
fragilely restored) is a woman an honour earned
by mary magdalene who (according to research)
turns out to be christs wife hang on what a whopper
A Confession
© Peter McArthur
DEAR little boy, with wondering eyes
That for the light of knowledge yearn,
Alexander VI Dines with the Cardinal of Capua
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Next, then, the peacock, gilt
With all its feathers. Look, what gorgeous dyes
Flow in the eyes!
And how deep, lustrous greens are splashed and spilt
Along the back, that like a sea-wave's crest
Scatters soft beauty o'er th' emblazoned breast!
A Song Of Changgan
© Li Po
My hair had hardly covered my forehead.
I was picking flowers, paying by my door,
When you, my lover, on a bamboo horse,
Came trotting in circles and throwing green plums.
We lived near together on a lane in Ch'ang-kan,
Both of us young and happy-hearted.
A Minor Poet
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Others with subtle hands may pluck the strings,
Making even Love in music audible,
And earth one glory. I am but a shell
That moves, not of itself, and moving sings;
Leaving a fragrance, faint as wine new-shed,
A tremulous murmur from great days long dead.
A Terre
© Wilfred Owen
Sit on the bed; I'm blind, and three parts shell,
Be careful; can't shake hands now; never shall.
Both arms have mutinied against me -- brutes.
My fingers fidget like ten idle brats.
Apologia Pro Poemate Meo
© Wilfred Owen
I, too, saw God through mud --
The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled.
War brought more glory to their eyes than blood,
And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child.
Asleep
© Wilfred Owen
Under his helmet, up against his pack,
After the many days of work and waking,
Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back.
And in the happy no-time of his sleeping,
And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
© Alfred Tennyson
And ask ye why these sad tears stream?
Why these wan eyes are dim with weeping?
I had a dreama lovely dream,
Of her that in the grave is sleeping.
A Poor Christian Looks At The Ghetto
© Czeslaw Milosz
I am afraid, so afraid of the guardian mole.
He has swollen eyelids, like a Patriarch
Who has sat much in the light of candles
Reading the great book of the species.
"An idle poet, dreaming"
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AN idle poet, dreaming in the sun,
One given to much unhallowed vagrancy
Of thought and step; who, when he comes to die.
In the broad world can point to nothing done;
Argonauts
© Madison Julius Cawein
With argosies of dawn he sails,
And triremes of the dusk,
The Seas of Song, whereon the gales
Are myths that trail wild musk.
A Retir'd Friendship
© Katherine Philips
Come, my Ardelia, to this bowre,
Where kindly mingling Souls a while,
Let's innocently spend an houre,
And at all serious follys smile
Against Love
© Katherine Philips
Hence Cupid! with your cheating toys,
Your real griefs, and painted joys,
Your pleasure which itself destroys.
Lovers like men in fevers burn and rave,
A God's Labour
© Sri Aurobindo
I have gathered my dreams in a silver air
Between the gold and the blue
And wrapped them softly and left them there,
My jewelled dreams of you.
A Parodist's Apology
© James Kenneth Stephen
If I've dared laugh at you, Robert Browning,
'Tis with eyes that with you have often wept:
You have oftener left me smiling or frowning,
Than any beside, one bard except.