Poems begining by C
/ page 32 of 99 /
Clair de lune (Moonlight on the Bosphorus)
© Victor Marie Hugo
La lune était sereine et jouait sur les flots. -
La fenêtre enfin libre est ouverte à la brise,
La sultane regarde, et la mer qui se brise,
Là-bas, d'un flot d'argent brode les noirs îlots.
Composed At Clevedon, Somersetshire
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
My pensive Sara, thy soft cheek reclined
Thus on mine arm, most soothing sweet it is
To sit beside our cot, our cot o'ergrown
With white-flowered jasmine and the broad-leaved myrtle
Cyprian, in my dream
© Sappho
Cyprian, in my dream
the folds of a purple
kerchief shadowed
your cheeks -- the one
Campaspe
© Henry Kendall
Dost thou know of the cunning of Beauty? Take heed to thyself and beware
Of the trap in the droop in the raiment - the snare in the folds of the hair!
She is fulgent in flashes of pearl, the breeze with her breathing is sweet,
But fly from the face of the girl - there is death in the fall of her feet!
Is she maiden or marvel of marble? Oh, rather a tigress at wait
To pounce on thy soul for her pastime - a leopard for love or for hate.
Conclusion
© John Frederick Nims
legato con amore in un volume
ciò che per luniverso si squaderna . . .
Calling Lucasta From Her Retirement. Ode
© Richard Lovelace
I.
From the dire monument of thy black roome,
Wher now that vestal flame thou dost intombe,
As in the inmost cell of all earths wombe.
Corfu
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Thou pleasant Island, whose rich garden--shores
Have had a long--lived fame of loveliness,
Recorded in the historic song, that framed
The unknown Poet of an unknown time,
Couplet 3
© Amir Khusro
Farsi Couplet:
Dilam dar aashiqui aawareh shud aawareh tar baada,
Tanam az bedilee beechareh shud beechareh tar baada.
Crimson Curtains Round My Mother's Bed
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Crimson curtains round my mother's bed,
Silken soft as may be;
Cool white curtains round about my bed,
For I am but a baby.
Concealment
© Abraham Cowley
No; to what purpose should I speak?
No, wretched heart! swell till you break.
Cavalry Charge At Balaclava
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Traveller on foreign ground, whoe'er thou art,
Tell the great tidings! They went down that day
Can a Maid That Is Well Bred
© Martin Peerson
Can a maid that is well bred,
Hath a blush so lovely red,
Modest looks, wise, mild, discreet,
And a nature passing sweet,
Chorus of the Dead
© Giacomo Leopardi
And all returns to Thee, alone eternal,
And all Thee returning.
Chaitanya
© Arun Kolatkar
a herd of legends
on the hill slope
looked up from its grazing
when chaitanya came into sight
Cynthia, Because Your Horns
© Fulke Greville
CYNTHIA, because your horns look diverse ways,
Now darken'd to the east, now to the west,
Then at full-glory once in thirty days,
Sense doth believe that change is nature's rest.
Consolation
© Anonymous
The mother drew the baby to her knee,
And, smiling, said: "The stars shine soft tonight;
My world is fair; its edges sweet to me,
And whatsoever is, dear Lord, is right."
