Poems begining by A
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A Paralell Between Bowling And Preferment
© William Strode
Preferment, like a Game at bowles,
To feede our hope with diverse play
Heer quick it runnes, there soft it rowles:
The Betters make and shew the way.
A New Year's Gift
© William Strode
We are prevented; you whose Presence is
A Publick New-yeares gift, a Common bliss
To all that Love or Feare, give no man leave
To vie a Gift but first he shall receave;
Like as the Persian Sun with golden Eies
First shines upon the Priest and Sacrifice.
A Lover To His Mistress
© William Strode
Ile tell you how the Rose did first grow redde,
And whence the Lilly whitenesse borrowed:
You blusht, and then the Rose with redde was dight:
The Lillies kissde your hands, and so came white:
American Feuillage
© Walt Whitman
Whoever you are! how can I but offer you divine leaves, that you also
be eligible as I am?
How can I but, as here, chanting, invite you for yourself to collect
bouquets of the incomparable feuillage of These States?
Another (II)
© Anne Bradstreet
As loving hind that (hartless) wants her deer,
Scuds through the woods and fern with hark'ning ear,
Perplext, in every bush and nook doth pry,
Her dearest deer, might answer ear or eye;
Another
© Anne Bradstreet
Phoebus make haste, the day's too long, be gone,
The silent night's the fittest time for moan;
But stay this once, unto my suit give ear,
And tell my griefs in either hemisphere.
A Letter to Her Husband
© Anne Bradstreet
Absent upon Public Employment My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay more,
My joy, my magazine, of earthly store,
If two be one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie?
An Obsessive Combination Of Onotological Inscape, Trickery And Love
© Anne Sexton
Busy, with an idea for a code, I write
signals hurrying from left to right,
A Dialogue between Old England and New
© Anne Bradstreet
New England. 1 Alas, dear Mother, fairest Queen and best,
2 With honour, wealth, and peace happy and blest,
3 What ails thee hang thy head, and cross thine arms,
4 And sit i' the dust to sigh these sad alarms?
Alchemy
© Sara Teasdale
I lift my heart as spring lifts up
A yellow daisy to the rain;
My heart will be a lovely cup
Altho' it holds but pain.
A Hill
© Anthony Evan Hecht
In Italy, where this sort of thing can occur,
I had a vision once - though you understand
It was nothing at all like Dante's, or the visions of saints,
And perhaps not a vision at all. I was with some friends,
A Letter
© Anthony Evan Hecht
I have been wondering
What you are thinking about, and by now suppose
It is certainly not me.
But the crocus is up, and the lark, and the blundering
Blood knows what it knows.
It talks to itself all night, like a sliding moonlit sea.
A Gallop From The Train
© William Henry Ogilvie
Though I can't afford a hunter -more's the pity,
I love a rousing gallop like the rest!-
Every morning as I travel to the city
I have five and forty minutes of the best.
A Worldly Death-Bed
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Hush! speak in accents soft and low,
And treat with careful stealth
A Hymn To My God
© Sir Henry Wotton
OH thou great Power, in whom I move,
For whom I live, to whom I die,
Address to Emperor Frederic II.
© Walther von der Vogelweide
Fain (could it be) would I a home obtain,
And warm me by a hearth-side of my own.
A Promise. "In the dark, lonely night"
© Frances Anne Kemble
In the dark, lonely night,
When sleep and silence keep their watch o'er men;
An Officer Deplores The Misery Of The Time
© Confucius
In the fourth month summer shines;
In the sixth the heat declines.
Nature thus grants men relief;
Tyranny gives only grief.
Were not my forefathers men?
Can my suffering 'scape their ken?
