Poems begining by A
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'Atkins'
© George Meredith
Yonder's the man with his life in his hand,
Legs on the march for whatever the land,
An Opium Fantasy
© Maria White Lowell
SOFT hangs the opiate in the brain,
And lulling soothes the edge of pain,
Till harshest sound, far off or near,
Sings floating in its mellow sphere.
Allegro Maestoso
© William Ernest Henley
Spring winds that blow
As over leagues of myrtle-blooms and may;
Address To Thought
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
OH thou! the musing, wakeful pow'r,
That lov'st the silent, midnight hour,
Thy lonely vigils then to keep,
And banish far the angel, sleep,
A Receipt to Cure the Vapors
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
I
Why will Delia thus retire,
And idly languish life away?
While the sighing crowd admire,
’Tis too soon for hartshorn tea:
At a Solemn Musick
© Delmore Schwartz
Let the musicians begin,
Let every instrument awaken and instruct us
In love’s willing river and love’s dear discipline:
We wait, silent, in consent and in the penance
Of patience, awaiting the serene exaltation
Which is the liberation and conclusion of expiation.
A Vision of a Wrangler, of a University, of Pedantry, and of Philosophy
© James Clerk Maxwell
Deep St. Mary’s bell had sounded,
And the twelve notes gently rounded
Allah. (From The German Of Mahlmann)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Allah gives light in darkness,
Allah gives rest in pain,
Cheeks that are white with weeping
Allah paints red again.
An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatley
© Jupiter Hammon
I
O come you pious youth! adore
The wisdom of thy God,
In bringing thee from distant shore,
To learn His holy word.
Eccles. xii.
Atlantic Oil
© Cesare Pavese
The drunk mechanic is happy to be in the ditch.
From the tavern, five minutes through the dark field
A Celebration of Charis: I. His Excuse for Loving
© Benjamin Jonson
Let it not your wonder move,
Less your laughter, that I love.
A Witch
© William Barnes
There's thik wold hag, Moll Brown, look zee, jus' past!
I wish the ugly sly wold witch
Atlantis
© Hart Crane
Through the bound cable strands, the arching path
Upward, veering with light, the flight of strings,
An Epiphany
© Ted Kooser
I have seen the Brown Recluse Spider
run with a net in her hand, or rather,
A Dream Lies Dead
© Dorothy Parker
Whenever one drifted petal leaves the tree-
Though white of bloom as it had been before
And proudly waitful of fecundity-
One little loveliness can be no more;
And so must Beauty bow her imperfect head
Because a dream has joined the wistful dead!
A Complaint
© William Wordsworth
A well of love-it may be deep-
I trust it is,-and never dry:
What matter? if the waters sleep
In silence and obscurity.
-Such change, and at the very door
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor.
