Poems begining by F
/ page 15 of 107 /Flowers in Winter: Painted Upon a Porte Livre.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
How strange to greet, this frosty morn,
In graceful counterfeit of flower,
These children of the meadows, born
Of sunshine and of showers!
Fragment: Love The Universe To-Day
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
And who feels discord now or sorrow?
Love is the universe to-day--
These are the slaves of dim to-morrow,
Darkening Life's labyrinthine way.
For A Picture
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
That nose is out of drawing. With a gasp,
She pants upon the passionate lips that ache
With the red drain of her own mouth, and make
A monochord of colour. Like an asp,
From The Upland To The Sea
© William Morris
Shall we wake one morn of spring,
Glad at heart of everything,
Feuilles D'Automne
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Gather the leaves from the forest
And blow them over the world,
The wind of winter follows
The wind of autumn furled.
For the Meeting of the Burns Club
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Though years have clipped the eagleâs plume
That crowned the chieftainâs bonnet,
The sun still sees the heather bloom,
The silver mists lie on it;
First-Day Thoughts
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In calm and cool and silence, once again
I find my old accustomed place among
Farewell To J. R. Lowell
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FAREWELL, for the bark has her breast to the tide,
And the rough arms of Ocean are stretched for his bride;
The winds from the mountain stream over the bay;
One clasp of the hand, then away and away!
Forgiven
© Helen Hunt Jackson
I dreamed so dear a dream of you last night!
I thought you came. I was so glad, so gay,
"Flowers Of France" Decoration Poem For Soldiers' Graves, Tours, France, May 30, 1918
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Flowers of France in the Spring,
Your growth is a beautiful thing;
Fragment: A Gentle Story Of Two Lovers Young
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
A gentle story of two lovers young,
Who met in innocence and died in sorrow,
And of one selfish heart, whose rancour clung
Like curses on them; are ye slow to borrow
Fior Di Maggio
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Oh! May sits crowned with hawthorn-flower,
And is Love's month, they say;
And Love's the fruit that is ripened best
By ladies' eyes in May.
For Fasting Days
© Muriel Stuart
Are you my songs, importunate of praise?
Be still, remember for your comforting
That sweeter birds have had less leave to sing
Before men piped them from their lonely ways.
For Beauty I Am Not a Star
© Woodrow Wilson
For beauty I am not a star,
There are others more perfect by far,
But my face I don't mind it,
For I am behind it,
It is those in front that I jar.
Fit The Eighth - The Vanishing
© Lewis Carroll
"There is Thingumbob shouting!" the Bellman said.
"He is shouting like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
He has certainly found a Snark!"
Fatal Love
© Matthew Prior
Poor Hal caught his death standing under a spout
Expecting till midnight when Nan would come out;
But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame,
And cursed was the weather that quench'd the man's flame.
Whoe'er thou art that reads these moral lines,
Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.
For An Autograph
© James Russell Lowell
THOUGH old the thought and oft exprest,
'Tis his at last who says it best,
I'll try my fortune with the rest.
Life is a leaf of paper white
Whereon each one of us may write
His word or two, and then comes night.
False Weight
© George Moses Horton
If thou art fair, deal, lady, fair,
And let the scales be even;
Forbid the poising beam to rear,
And pull thee down from heaven.