Poems begining by A

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A Shropshire Lad XIX: The time you won your town the race

© Alfred Edward Housman

The time you won your town the raceWe chaired you through the market-place;Man and boy stood cheering by,And home we brought you shoulder-high.

At Pleasure Bay

© Robert Pinsky

In the willows along the river at Pleasure Bay
A catbird singing, never the same phrase twice.
Here under the pines a little off the road
In 1927 the Chief of Police

An Eternity

© Archibald MacLeish

There is no dusk to be,
There is no dawn that was,
Only there's now, and now,
And the wind in the grass.

Ars Poetica

© Archibald MacLeish

A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown-- A poem should be wordless

Here is the shadow of truth, for only the shadow is true.
And the line where the incoming swell from the sunset Pacific
First leans and staggers to break will tell all you need to know
About submarine geography, and your father's death rattle
Provides all biographical data required for the Who's Who of the dead.

Ashes Of Life

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,and would that night were
here!
But ah!to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again!with twilight near!

Afternoon On A Hill

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

Assault

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not so have ventured forth alone
At dusk upon this unfrequented road.

Alms

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

My heart is what it was before,
A house where people come and go;
But it is winter with your love,
The sashes are beset with snow.

Autumn Daybreak

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud
At dawn, a fortnight overdue,
Jostling the doors, and tearing through
My bedroom to rejoin the cloud,

And do you think that love itself

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I KNOW, but I do not insist,
Having stealth and tact, thought not enough,
What hour your eye is on your wrist.

Apostrophe To Man

(On reflecting that the world
is ready to go to war again)Detestable race, continue to expunge yourself, die out.
Breed faster, crowd, encroach, sing hymns, build
bombing airplanes;

A Visit To The Asylum

Once from a big, big building,
When I was small, small,
The queer folk in the windows
Would smile at me and call.

An Ancient Gesture

I thought, as I wiped my eyes on the corner of my apron:
Penelope did this too.
And more than once: you can't keep weaving all day
And undoing it all through the night;