Poems begining by E
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Equations of the Light
© Dana Gioia
Turning the corner, we discovered it
just as the old wrought-iron lamps went on—
a quiet, tree-lined street, only one block long
resting between the noisy avenues.
Early Affection
© George Moses Horton
I lov’d thee from the earliest dawn,
When first I saw thy beauty’s ray,
Earth Upon Earth
© Pierre Reverdy
Earth took of earth, earth with woe,
Earth other earth to the earth added;
Earth laid earth in an earthen grave.
Then had earth of earth enough earth.
Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg
© André Breton
When first, descending from the moorlands,
I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide
Along a bare and open valley,
The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.
Elegy X
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Yet the dead youth must go on alone.
In silence the elder Lament brings him
as far as the gorge where it shimmers in the moonlight:
The Foutainhead of Joy. With reverance she names it,
saying: "In the world of mankind it is a life-bearing stream."
Eros
© John Hall Wheelock
Surely thy body is thy mind,
For in thy face is nought to find,
Only thy soft unchristen’d smile,
That shadows neither love nor guile,
But shameless will and power immense,
In secret sensuous innocence.
Epitaph
© Katherine Philips
On her Son H.P. at St. Syths Church where her body also lies interred
What on Earth deserves our trust?
Empire
© Laura Riding Jackson
He wore a little spiraled hat and wrote a song
that everyone sang. He lived on the mountainside
Elegiac Stanzas In Memory Of My Brother, John Commander Of The E. I. Companys Ship The Earl Of Aber
© William Wordsworth
I
THE Sheep-boy whistled loud, and lo!
That instant, startled by the shock,
The Buzzard mounted from the rock
Ego
© Denise Duhamel
I just didn’t get it—
even with the teacher holding an orange (the earth) in one hand
Elizabethan
© Linda Pastan
Some gentler passion slide into my mind,
For I am soft and made of melting snow
—Queen Elizabeth I
Elegiac Stanzas Suggested By A Picture Of Peele Castle
© William Wordsworth
Ah! then , if mine had been the Painter's hand,
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet's dream;
Epilogue: To A Mother
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
On seeing her smile repeated in her daughter's eyes
Epistle to Miss Blount, On Her Leaving the Town, After the Coronation
© Alexander Pope
As some fond virgin, whom her mothers care
Drags from the town to wholesome country air,
Epicoene, or the Silent Woman: Still to be neat, still to be drest
© Benjamin Jonson
Still to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powder'd, still perfum'd:
Lady, it is to be presum'd,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.
