Poems begining by E
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Eclogue 10: Gallus
© Publius Vergilius Maro
This now, the very latest of my toils,
Vouchsafe me, Arethusa! needs must I
El Dorado
© John Ashbery
We have a friend in common, the retired sophomore.
His concern: that I shall get it like that,
Early Sunday Morning
© Edward Hirsch
I used to mock my father and his chums
for getting up early on Sunday morning
and drinking coffee at a local spot
but now I’m one of those chumps.
English Eclogues I - The Old Mansion-House
© Robert Southey
STRANGER.
Old friend! why you seem bent on parish duty,
Breaking the highway stones,--and 'tis a task
Somewhat too hard methinks for age like yours.
Evening
© Victoria Mary Sackville-West
When little lights in little ports come out,
Quivering down through water with the stars,
And all the fishing fleet of slender spars
Range at their moorings, veer with tide about;
Epitaph
© Elinor Wylie
For this she starred her eyes with salt
And scooped her temples thin,
Until her face shone pure of fault
From the forehead to the chin.
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: LVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
It might not be. Some things are possible,
And some impossible for even God.
And Esther had no soul which Heaven or Hell
Could touch by joy or soften by the rod.
Epigram - On Players And Ballad-Singers
© Francis Quarles
They're like the Priest and Clerk at Belial's altar;
One makes the Sermon; t'other tunes the Psalter.
Eagle Plain
© Robert Francis
The American eagle is not aware he is
the American eagle. He is never tempted
to look modest.
El Celaje
© Amado Ruiz de Nervo
¿A dónde fuiste, amor; a dónde fuiste?
Se extinguió en el poniente el manso fuego,
y tú que me decías: "Hasta luego,
volveré por la noche"… ¡No volviste!
Extent of Cookery
© William Shenstone
When Tom to Cambridge first was sent,
A plain brown bob he wore;
Read much, and look'd as though he meant
To be a fop no more.
Ex Libris
© Hugo Williams
By the stream, where the ground is soft
and gives, under the slightest pressure—even
Evening Ebb
© Robinson Jeffers
The ocean has not been so quiet for a long while; five nightherons
Fly shorelong voiceless in the hush of the air
Epilogue To Shapes & Shadows
© Madison Julius Cawein
Beyond the moon, within a land of mist,
Lies the dim Garden of all Dead Desires,
Walled round with morning's clouded amethyst,
And haunted of the sunset's shadowy fires;
There all lost things we loved hold ghostly tryst--
Dead dreams, dead hopes, dead loves, and dead desires.
