Poems begining by A
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An Answer To A Copy Of Verses Sent Me To Jersey
© Abraham Cowley
As to a northern people (whom the sun
Uses just as the Romish church has done
Another
© Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Tis a moon-tinted primrose, with a well
Of trembling dew; in its soft atmosphere,
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - May
© George MacDonald
1.
WHAT though my words glance sideways from the thing
At a Lecture
© Joseph Brodsky
Since mistakes are inevitable, I can easily be taken
for a man standing before you in this room filled
Afar In The Desert
© Thomas Pringle
Afar in the Desert I love to ride,
With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side:
A June Day
© John Todhunter
The very spirit of summer breathes to-day,
Here where I sun me in a dreamy mood,
An Officer Bewails The Neglect With Which He Is Treated
© Confucius
It floats about, that boat of cypress wood,
Now here, now there, as by the current borne.
A Wreath Of Sonnets (13/14)
© France Preseren
Send but your rays their glory to renew
And let me not look for dawn's light in vain
In your dear face, to hold back night's domain
And calm the wildest storms that ever blew.
An Answer
© Zbigniew Herbert
This will be a night in deep snow
which has the power to muffle steps
in deep shadow transforming
bodies to two puddles of darkness
we lie holding our breath
and even the slightest whisper of thought
A Jet Ring Sent
© John Donne
Thou art not so black as my heart,
Nor half so brittle as her heart, thou art ;
What would'st thou say ? shall both our properties by thee be spoke,
Nothing more endless, nothing sooner broke?
A Perfect Strain
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O BID the minstrel tune his harp,
And bid the minstrel sing;
A Christmas Memory
© James Whitcomb Riley
Pa he bringed me here to stay
'Til my Ma she's well.--An' nen
He's go' hitch up, Chris'mus-day,
An' come take me back again
Wher' my Ma's at! Won't I be
Tickled when he comes fer me!
A Poem Dedicated To The Memory Of The Late Learned And Eminent Mr. William Law, Professor Of Philoso
© Robert Blair
In silence to suppress my griefs I've tried,
And kept within its banks the swelling tide!
But all in vain: unbidden numbers flow;
Spite of myself my sorrows vocal grow.
Antiphon
© George MacDonald
Daylight fades away.
Is the Lord at hand
In the shadows gray
Stealing on the land?
