Poems begining by F
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February
© Edith Nesbit
THE trees stand brown against the gray,
The shivering gray of field and sky;
The mists wrapt round the dying day
The shroud poor days wear as they die:
Poor day, die soon, who lived in vain,
Who could not bring my Love again!
From 'The Temple'
© Virna Sheard
HERE is the perfume of the leaves, the incense of the pines
The magic scent that hath been pent
Within the tangled vines:
No censer filled with spices rare
E'er swung such sweetness on the air.
First Sunday After Christmas
© John Keble
'Tis true, of old the unchanging sun
His daily course refused to run,
The pale moon hurrying to the west
Paused at a mortal's call, to aid
The avenging storm of war, that laid
Seven guilty realms at once on earth's defiled breast.
Francis Parkman
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
HE rests from toil; the portals of the tomb
Close on the last of those unwearying hands
That wove their pictured webs in History's loom,
Rich with the memories of three distant lands.
Fiddler Of Dooney
© William Butler Yeats
WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney.
Folk dance like a wave of the sea;
From the Persian of Hafiz II
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Of Paradise, O hermit wise,
Let us renounce the thought.
Of old therein our names of sin
Allah recorded not.
Five Prayers
© Blanche Edith Baughan
TO taste
Wild wine of the mountain-spring, fresh, living, strong,
Free Fantasia On Japanese Themes
© Amy Lowell
Still, but alert;
And my heart is still and alert,
Passive with sunshine,
Avid of adventure.
Frithiof's Homestead. (From The Swedish)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Three miles extended around the fields of the homestead, on three sides
Valleys and mountains and hills, but on the fourth side was the ocean.
Face Lift
© Sylvia Plath
You bring me good news from the clinic,
Whipping off your silk scarf, exhibiting the tight white
Fuchsia Hedges In Connacht
© Padraic Colum
I THINK some saint of Eirinn wandering far
Found you and brought you here Demoiselles!
For so I greet you in this alien air!
Fifty Faggots
© Edward Thomas
There they stand, on their ends, the fifty fag gots
That once were underwood of hazel and ash
Falling
© James Dickey
Of a virgin sheds the long windsocks of her stockings absurd
Brassiere then feels the girdle required by regulations squirming
Off her: no longer monobuttocked she feels the girdle flutter shake
In her hand and float upward her clothes rising off her ascending
Into cloud and fights away from her head the last sharp dangerous shoe
Like a dumb bird and now will drop in soon now will drop
Farm Breakfast
© John Clare
Maids shout to breakfast in a merry strife,
And the cat runs to hear the whetted knife,
Father of Love, to Thee I Bend
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Father of love, to thee I bend
My heart, and lift mine eyes;
O let my pray'r and praise ascend
As odours to the skies.
Fishing Reasons
© Edgar Albert Guest
Fish can be bought in the market place,
So it isn't the fish I'm after.
"Farewell, Life! My Senses Swim"
© Thomas Hood
Farewell, Life! My senses swim,
And the world is growing dim;
Thronging shadows cloud the light,
Like the advent of the night,
From Those Eternal Regions
© James Thomson
From those eternal regions bright,
Where suns, that never set in night,
Fire Pictures
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O! THE rolling, rushing fire!
O! the fire!
How it rages, wilder, higher,
Like a hot heart's fierce desire,
