Poems begining by D
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Debt
© Sara Teasdale
What do I owe to you
Who loved me deep and long?
You never gave my spirit wings
Or gave my heart a song.
Doubt
© Sara Teasdale
My soul lives in my body's house,
And you have both the house and her
But sometimes she is less your own
Than a wild, gay adventurer;
Dust
© Sara Teasdale
When I went to look at what had long been hidden,
A jewel laid long ago in a secret place,
I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire
But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face.
Did You Never Know?
© Sara Teasdale
Did you never know, long ago, how much you loved me
That your love would never lessen and never go?
You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,
You were too young to know.
Don't fear death
© Alexander Blok
Don't fear death in earthly travels.
Don't fear enemies or friends.
Just listen to the words of prayers,
To pass the facets of the dreads.
Day of These Days
© Laurie Lee
Such a morning it is when love
leans through geranium windows
and calls with a cockerel's tongue.
Dryads
© Siegfried Sassoon
When meadows are grey with the morn
In the dusk of the woods it is night:
The oak and the birch and the pine
War with the glimmer of light.
Dream-Forest
© Siegfried Sassoon
Where sunshine flecks the green,
Through towering woods my way
Goes winding all the day.
Devotion to Duty
© Siegfried Sassoon
I was near the King that day. I saw him snatch
And briskly scan the G.H.Q. dispatch.
Thick-voiced, he read it out. (His face was grave.)
This officer advanced with the first wave,
Dead Musicians
© Siegfried Sassoon
. . . .
And so the song breaks off; and Im alone.
Theyre dead ... For Gods sake stop that gramophone.
David Cleek
© Siegfried Sassoon
I cannot think that Death will press his claim
To snuff you out or put you off your game:
Youll still contrive to play your steady round,
Though hurricanes may sweep the dismal ground,
And darkness blur the sandy-skirted green
Where silence gulfs the shot you strike so clean.
Daybreak In A Garden
© Siegfried Sassoon
I heard the farm cocks crowing, loud, and faint, and thin,
When hooded night was going and one clear planet winked:
I heard shrill notes begin down the spired wood distinct,
When cloudy shoals were chinked and gilt with fires of day.
Died of Wounds
© Siegfried Sassoon
His wet white face and miserable eyes
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell
His troubled voice: he did the business well.
Dreamers
© Siegfried Sassoon
I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats,
And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain,
Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats,
And mocked by hopeless longing to regain
Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats,
And going to the office in the train.
Does It Matter?
© Siegfried Sassoon
Does it matter?-losing your legs?
For people will always be kind,
And you need not show that you mind
When others come in after hunting
Deaf House Agent
© Katherine Mansfield
That deaf old man
With his hand to his ear--
His hand to hi head stood out like a shell,
Horny and hollow. He said, "I can't hear,"
He muttered, "Don't shout,
I can hear very well!"
Doom and She
© Thomas Hardy
There dwells a mighty pair -
Slow, statuesque, intense -
Amid the vague Immense:
None can their chronicle declare,
Nor why they be, nor whence.
De Profundis
© Thomas Hardy
Wintertime nighs;
But my bereavement-pain
It cannot bring again:
Twice no one dies.
Domicilium
© Thomas Hardy
It faces west, and round the back and sides
High beeches, bending, hang a veil of boughs,
And sweep against the roof. Wild honeysucks
Climb on the walls, and seem to sprout a wish
(If we may fancy wish of trees and plants)
To overtop the apple trees hard-by.
Departure
© Thomas Hardy
While the far farewell music thins and fails,
And the broad bottoms rip the bearing brine -
All smalling slowly to the gray sea line -
And each significant red smoke-shaft pales,
