Poems begining by A
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Aubade by Dore Kiesselbach : American Life in Poetry #237 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
An aubade is a poem about separation at dawn, but as you’ll see, this one by Dore Kiesselbach, who lives in Minnesota, is about the complex relationship between a son and his mother.
Aubade
At The Pantomime
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE house was crammed from roof to floor,
Heads piled on heads at every door;
A Song Of Derivations
© Alice Meynell
I come from nothing; but from where
Come the undying thoughts I bear?
Down, through the long links of death and birth,
From the past poets of the earth,
My immortality is there.
A Country Nosegay
© Alfred Austin
Where have you been through the long sweet hours
That follow the fragrant feet of June?
By the dells and the dingles gathering flowers,
Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped by noon.
Astrophel And Stella-Third Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
If Orpheus' voice had force to breathe such music's love
Through pores of senseless trees, as it could make them move;
If stones good measure danc'd, the Theban walls to build,
To cadence of the tunes, which Amphion's lyre did yield,
More cause a like effect at leastwise bringeth:
Oh stones, oh trees, learning hearing; Stella singeth.
A Poem Sacred to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton
© James Thomson
And what new wonders can ye show your guest!
Who, while on this dim spot, where mortals toil
Clouded in dust, from motion's simple laws,
Could trace the secret hand of Providence,
Wide-working through this universal frame.
A Bad Omen
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
On the first day the priest
Could find no heart in the beast,
And two on the second day.
Amours De Voyage, Canto IV
© Arthur Hugh Clough
I have returned and found their names in the book at Como.
Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error.
Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.-
So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me.
Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance.
So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them.
A Rivulet
© Thomas Lovell Beddoes
It is a lovely stream; its wavelets purl
As if they echoed to the fall and rise
A Man Young And Old: IV. The Death Of The Hare
© William Butler Yeats
I have pointed out the yelling pack,
The hare leap to the wood,
And when I pass a compliment
Rejoice as lover should
At the drooping of an eye,
At the mantling of the blood.
Anacreontic
© William Shenstone
'Twas in a cool Aonian glade,
The wanton Cupid, spent with toil,
Had sought refreshment from the shade,
And stretch'd him on the mossy soil.
Any Mother
© Katharine Tynan
"What's the news? Now tell it me."
"Allenby again advances."
"No, it is not Allenby
But my boy, straight as a lance is.
A Song of Honour
© Ralph Hodgson
I climbed a hill as light fell short,
And rooks came home in scramble sort,
An Ember Picture
© James Russell Lowell
How strange are the freaks of memory!
The lessons of life we forget,
While a trifle, a trick of color,
In the wonderful web is set,--
An Essay on Man: Epistle II
© Alexander Pope
Superior beings, when of late they saw
A mortal Man unfold all Nature's law,
Admir'd such wisdom in an earthly shape,
And showed a Newton as we shew an Ape.
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634. (Comus)
© John Milton
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an enchanted chair;
to
whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to
rise.
