Poems begining by A
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A Rector's Memory
© Rudyard Kipling
The, Gods that are wiser than Learning
But kinder than Life have made sure
A Dream
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Behold an endless evening over land
That lapped in vast vales rises up afar
Into the frozen mountains; evening brimmed
With silence, so miraculously clear
A Thousand Martyrs
© Aphra Behn
A thousand martyrs I have made,
All sacrificed to my desire;
A thousand beauties have betrayed,
That languish in resistless fire.
The untamed heart to hand I brought,
And fixed the wild and wandering thought.
A Poet's Room (Greenwich Village 1912)
© Harry Kemp
I have a table, cot and chair
And nothing more. The walls are bare
Yet I confess that in my room
Lie Syrian rugs rich from the loom,
A Mock Song
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Now Whitehall's in the grave,
And our head is our slave,
The bright pearl in his close shell of oyster;
A la France
© Victor Marie Hugo
Personne pour toi. Tous sont d'accord. Celui-ci,
Nommé Gladstone, dit à tes bourreaux : merci !
Autumn
© Samuel Menashe
I walk outside the stone wall
Looking into the park at night
As armed trees frisk a windfall
Down paths that lampposts light
Amoretti LIV: Of this worlds Theatre in which we stay
© Edmund Spenser
Of this worlds Theatre in which we stay,
My love lyke the Spectator ydly sits
A Visit to Qiantang Lake in Spring
© Bai Juyi
Gushan Temple is to the north, Jiating pavilion west,
The water's surface now is calm, the bottom of the clouds low.
Amusing Our Daughters
© John Betjeman
after Po Chü-i,
for Robert Creeley
We don’t lack people here on the Northern coast,
But they are people one meets, not people one cares for.
So I bundle my daughters into the car
And with my brother poets, go to visit you, brother.
Ancapagari
© Carolyn Forche
In the morning of the tribe this name Ancapagari was given to these mountains. The name, then alive, spread into the world and never returned. Ancapagari: no foot-step ever spoken, no mule deer killed from its foothold, left for dead. Ancapagari opened the stones. Pine roots gripped peak rock with their claws. Water dug into the earth and vanished, boiling up again in another place. The water was bitten by aspen, generations of aspen shot their light colored trunks into space. Ancapagari. At that time, if the whisper was in your mouth, you were lighted.
Now these people are buried. The root-taking, finished. Buried in everything, thousands taken root. The roots swell, nesting. Openings widen for the roots to surface.
They sway within you in steady wind of your breath. You are forever swinging between this being and another, one being and another. There is a word for it crawling in your mouth each night. Speak it.
Ancapagari has circled, returned to these highlands. The yellow pines deathless, the sparrow hawks scull, the waters are going numb. Ancapagari longs to be spoken in each tongue. It is the name of the god who has come from among us.
As Adam, Early In The Morning
© Walt Whitman
AS Adam, early in the morning,
Walking forth from the bower, refresh'd with sleep;
Behold me where I pass-hear my voice-approach,
Touch me-touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass;
Be not afraid of my Body.
Aphrodite Metropolis (2)
© Kenneth Fearing
Harry loves Myrtle—He has strong arms, from the warehouse,
And on Sunday when they take the bus to emerald meadows he doesn't say:
All My Heart Is Stirring Lightly
© Mathilde Blind
All my heart is stirring lightly
Like dim violets winter-bound,
Quickening as they feel the brightly
Glowing sunlight underground.
A Bridal Song.
© Robert Crawford
Love that art enlargéd
As the sun!
Shine upon the bride-life
Here begun,
Abraham Lincoln Walks at Midnight
© Roald Dahl
(In Springfield, Illinois)
It is portentous, and a thing of state
That here at midnight, in our little town
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest,
Near the old court-house pacing up and down.
