Poems begining by A

 / page 174 of 345 /
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America

© Walt Whitman

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear’d, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair’d in the adamant of Time.

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Anticipated Stranger,

© John Ashbery

the bruise will stop by later.

For now, the pain pauses in its round,

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A Lyric of the Dawn

© Edwin Markham

Alone I list

 In the leafy tryst;

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Are They Shadows

© Samuel Daniel

Are they shadows that we see?
And can shadows pleasure give?
Pleasures only shadows be
Cast by bodies we conceive
And are made the things we deem
In those figures which they seem.

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And, the Last Day Being Come, Man Stood Alone

© Trumbull Stickney

And, the last day being come, Man stood alone
Ere sunrise on the world’s dismantled verge,
Awaiting how from everywhere should urge
The Coming of the Lord. And, behold, none

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A Barred Owl

© Lola Ridge

The warping night air having brought the boom
Of an owl’s voice into her darkened room,
We tell the wakened child that all she heard
Was an odd question from a forest bird,
Asking of us, if rightly listened to,
“Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”

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April Love?

© Carol Ann Duffy

We have walked in Love's land a little way,

We have learnt his lesson a little while,

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A Black Man Talks of Reaping

© William Bronk

I have sown beside all waters in my day.
I planted deep, within my heart the fear
that wind or fowl would take the grain away.
I planted safe against this stark, lean year. 

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Ariel

© Sylvia Plath

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue 
Pour of tor and distances.

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A Burnt Ship

© John Donne

Out of a fired ship, which by no way
But drowning could be rescued from the flame,
Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came
Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;
So all were lost, which in the ship were found,
 They in the sea being burnt, they in the burnt ship drown'd.

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Amoretti LXXI: I joy to see how in your drawen work

© Edmund Spenser

I joy to see how in your drawen work,


Your selfe unto the Bee ye doe compare;

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A Plagued Journey

© Jon Anderson

There is no warning rattle at the door 

nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer boards. 

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Alpine Wedding

© Ralph Angel

All dark morning long the clouds are rising slowly up
beneath us, and we are fast asleep.
The mountains unmove

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Anniversary

© Louise Gluck

Someone should teach you how to act in bed.
What I think is you should
keep your extremities to yourself.

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A High-Toned Old Christian Woman

© Edwin Muir

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.

Take the moral law and make a nave of it

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A Shropshire Lad LIII: The lad came to the door at night

© Alfred Edward Housman

The lad came to the door at night,
  When lovers crown their vows,
And whistled soft and out of sight
  In shadow of the boughs.

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A Prospect of Heaven Makes Death Easy

© Isaac Watts

There is a land of pure delight
 Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
 And pleasures banish pain.

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Autopsychography

© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa

The poet is a man who feigns
And feigns so thoroughly, at last
He manages to feign as pain
The pain he really feels,

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An Ode

© Erik Bogh

The merchant, to secure his treasure,
 Conveys it in a borrowed name;
Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
 But Cloe is my real flame.

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Amoretti LXX: Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king

© Edmund Spenser

Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king,


In whose cote armour richly are displayed