Poems begining by A
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Alfs Twelfth Bit
© Ezra Pound
Sez the Times a silver lining
Is what has set us pining,
Montague, Montague!
After Paul Verlaine-I
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Tears fall within mine heart,
As rain upon the town:
Whence does this languor start,
Possessing all mine heart?
'All's Well'
© Francis William Bourdillon
Watchman, watchman, what of the night,
What of the night to tell?
The heavens are dark, and never a light
But the far-off flicker of Hell.
An Old-Fashioned Love Song
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
Tell me what is writ above,
And I will tell you why I love.
An Answer
© Frances Anne Kemble
Could I be sure that I should die
The moment you had ceased to love me,
Anthem For Good Fryday
© William Strode
O let thy Death secure my soul from fears,
And I will wash thy wounds with brinish tears:
Grant me, sweet Jesu, from thy pretious store
One cleansing drop, with grace to sin no more.
An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron
© William Strode
Farewell Example, Living Rule farewell;
Whose practise shew'd goodness was possible,
Who reach'd the full outstretch'd perfection
Of Man, of Lawyer, and of Christian.
An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor
© William Strode
What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly
Stretch'd in a bed of clay, whose charity
Doth hereby get occasion to redeeme
Thousands out of the grave: though cold hee seeme
An Antheme
© William Strode
O sing a new song to the Lord,
Praise in the hight and deeper strayne;
Come beare your parts with one accord,
Which you in Heaven may sing againe.
A Watch-String
© William Strode
These strings can do what no man could--
The tyme they fast in prison hold.
A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada
© William Strode
Now the declining sun 'gan downwards bend
From higher heavens, and from his locks did send
A milder flame, when near to Tiber's flow
A lutinist allay'd his careful woe
A Superscription On Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia, Sent For A Token
© William Strode
Whatever in Philoclea the fair
Or the discreet Pamela figur'd are,
Change but the name the virtues are your owne,
And for a fiction there a truth is knowne:
A Strange Gentlewoman Passing By His Window
© William Strode
As I out of a casement sent
Mine eyes as wand'ring as my thought,
Upon no certayne object bent,
But only what occasion brought,
A Song On The Baths
© William Strode
What Angel stirrs this happy Well,
Some Muse from thence come shew't me,
One of those naked Graces tell
That Angels are for beauty:
A Song On A Sigh
© William Strode
O tell mee, tell, thou god of wynde,
In all thy cavernes canst thou finde
A vapor, fume, a gale or blast
Like to a sigh which love doth cast?
A Riddle: On A Kiss
© William Strode
What thing is that, nor felt nor seene
Till it bee given? a present for a Queene:
A fine conceite to give and take the like:
The giver yet is farther for to seeke;
A Purse-String
© William Strode
While thus I hang, you threatned see
The fate of him that stealeth mee.
