Poems begining by C
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Conundrums
© David Herbert Lawrence
Tell me a word
that you've often heard,
yet it makes you squint
when you see it in print!
Craving for Spring
© David Herbert Lawrence
I trample on the snowdrops, it gives me pleasure to tread down the jonquils,
to destroy the chill Lent lilies;
for I am sick of them, their faint-bloodedness,
slow-blooded, icy-fleshed, portentous.
Celebrating King Wan
© Confucius
The royal Wan now rests on high,
Enshrined in brightness of the sky.
Conceit
© David Herbert Lawrence
Now we have to admit we can't know ourselves, we can only know about ourselves.
And I am not interested to know about myself any more,
I only entangle myself in the knowing.
Cruelty and Love
© David Herbert Lawrence
What large, dark hands are those at the window
Lifted, grasping in the yellow light
Which makes its way through the curtain web
At my heart to-night?
Cynara
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Come, Said My Soul
© Walt Whitman
Come, said my soul,
Such verses for my body let us write, (For we are One),
Crow's Nerve Fails
© Ted Hughes
Who murdered all these?
These living dead, that root in his nerves and his blood
Till he is visibly black?
Corn
© Sidney Lanier
I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence
Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense,
Contests with stolid vehemence
The march of culture, setting limb and thorn
As pikes against the army of the corn.
Control
© Sidney Lanier
O Hunger, Hunger, I will harness thee
And make thee harrow all my spirit's glebe.
Of old the blind bard Herve sang so sweet
He made a wolf to plow his land.
Clover
© Sidney Lanier
Inscribed to the Memory of John Keats.Dear uplands, Chester's favorable fields,
My large unjealous Loves, many yet one --
A grave good-morrow to your Graces, all,
Fair tilth and fruitful seasons!
Clock-O'-Clay
© John Clare
In the cowslip pips I lie,
Hidden from the buzzing fly,
While green grass beneath me lies,
Pearled with dew like fishes' eyes,
Here I lie, a clock-o'-clay,
Waiting for the time o' day.
Confidence
© George MacDonald
Lie down upon the ground, thou hopeless one!
Press thy face in the grass, and do not speak.
Colour Studies {At Dieppe}
© Arthur Symons
The grey-green stretch of sandy grass,
Indefinitely desolate;
A sea of lead, a sky of slate;
Already autumn in the air, alas!
Christmass
© John Clare
Christmass is come and every hearth
Makes room to give him welcome now
Een want will dry its tears in mirth
And crown him wi a holly bough
Celandine
© Edward Thomas
But this was a dream; the flowers were not true,
Until I stooped to pluck from the grass there
One of five petals and I smelt the juice
Which made me sigh, remembering she was no more,
Gone like a never perfectly recalled air.
Clarence Fawcett
© Edgar Lee Masters
The sudden death of Eugene Carman
Put me in line to be promoted to fifty dollars a month,
And I told my wife and children that night.
But it didn't come, and so I thought
Chase Henry
© Edgar Lee Masters
In my life I was the town drunkard;
When I died the priest denied me burial
In holy ground.
The which rebounded to my good fortune.
