Poems begining by D
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Drinking in the Mountains
© Li Po
Mountain flowers open in our faces.
You and I are triply lost in wine.
Im drunk, my friend, sleepy. Rise and go.
With your dawn lute, return, if you wish, and stay.
Dreaming Of Li Bai (2)
© Du Fu
One thousand autumns, ten thousand years of fame,
are nothing after death.
Dressing The Doll
© William Brighty Rands
THIS is the way we dress the Doll:
You may make her a shepherdess, the Doll,
If you give her a crook with a pastoral hook,
But this is the way we dress the Doll.
Chorus
Dawn
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Dawn in New York has
four columns of mire
and a hurricane of black pigeons
splashing in the putrid waters.
Doughnuts And Cider
© Edgar Albert Guest
LAST night I single handed fought a gang of murderers that came
To get my money or my life, and very nearly did the same;
I struggled with them on a cliff, and over it I toppled two,
I hit another one a biff that dazed him, but I wasn't through,
As fast as one was overpowered another villain forced the fight,
Because four doughnuts I devoured and used a cider wash last night.
Death
© Madison Julius Cawein
THROUGH some strange sense of sight or touch
I find what all have found before,
The presence I have feared so much,
The unknowns immaterial door.
Dedication To Leigh Hunt, Esq.
© John Keats
Glory and loveliness have pass'd away;
For if we wander out in early morn,
No wreathed incense do we see upborne
Into the east, to meet the smiling day:
Drunk As Drunk On Turpentine
© Pablo Neruda
Ebrio de trementina y largos besos,
estival, el velero de las rosas dirijo,
torcido hacia la muerte del delgado día,
cimentado en el sólido frenesí marino.
Death Be Not Proud
© John Donne
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe,
De Notaire Publique
© William Henry Drummond
M'sieu Paul Joulin, de Notaire Publique
Is come I s'pose seexty year hees life
Daft Jean
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'Black, black,' sang she,
'Black, black my weeds shall be,
My love has widowed me!
Black, black!' sang she.
Don Juan: Canto The Sixth
© George Gordon Byron
'There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which,--taken at the flood,'--you know the rest,
Dream-House
© Margaret Widdemer
I WENT to the house of the Lady of Dreams
For a dream to carry away
That should ferry me over the blackest streams
I had to cross by day;
Doctor B. Of Tears
© Sir Henry Wotton
Who would have thought, there could have bin
Such joy in tears, wept for our sin?
Dead Joys
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Moan on with thy loud changeless wail,
Desolate sea,
Grinding thy pebbles into thankless sand.
Oh, could I lash my angry heart like thee
Dear Pretty Youth
© Thomas Shadwell
Dear pretty youth, unveil your eyes,
How can you sleep when I am by?
Driving to Camp Lend-A-Hand by Berwyn Moore: American Life in Poetry #175 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laur
© Ted Kooser
A part of being a parent, it seems, is spending too much time fearing the worst. Here Berwyn Moore, a Pennsylvania poet, expresses that fearâirrational, but exquisitely painful all the same.
Driving to Camp Lend-A-Hand
