Poems begining by F

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107

From The Last Hill That Looks On Thy Once Holy Dome

© George Gordon Byron

I.
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome,
I beheld thee, Oh Sion! when rendered to Rome:
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.

Fastness

© Rudyard Kipling

This is the end whereto men toiled
Before thy coachman guessed his fate,-
How thou shouldst leave thy, 'scutcheoned gate
On that new wheel which is the oiled-

Freedom

© Archibald Lampman

Out of the heart of the city begotten
Of the labour of men and their manifold hands,
Whose souls, that were sprung from the earth in her morning,
No longer regard or remember her warning,
Whose hearts in the furnace of care have forgotten
Forever the scent and the hue of her lands;

For Our Lady Of The Rocks By Leonardo Da Vinci

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Mother, is this the darkness of the end,

The Shadow of Death? and is that outer sea

Fifteenth Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies,

Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew,

Five Little Toes In The Morning

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

This little toe is hungry-
This little toe is too,
This toe lies abed like a sleepy head,
And this toe cries "Boo-hoo."
This toe big and tall is the smartest of all
For he pops into stocking and shoe.

For Lillian

© Robert Crawford

She was so dear, so fair. Her memory stays,

Even her dying robs me not of this,

Fille Du Vieux Pasteur

© André Marie de Chénier

Fille du vieux pasteur, qui d'une main agile

Le soir emplis de lait trente vases d'argile,

Flower-De-Luce: The Wind Over The Chimney

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

See, the fire is sinking low,
Dusky red the embers glow,
While above them still I cower,
While a moment more I linger,
Though the clock, with lifted finger,
Points beyond the midnight hour.

Forbidden Speech

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The passion you forbade my lips to utter
Will not be silenced. You must hear it in
The sullen thunders when they roll and mutter:
And when the tempest nears, with wail and din,
I know your calm forgetfulness is broken,
And to your heart you whisper, "He has spoken."

Faithful In Vanity-Fair

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

THE great human whirlpool--'t is seething and seething:
On! No time for shrieking out--scarcely for breathing:
All toiling and moiling, some feebler, some bolder,
But each sees a fiend-face grim over his shoulder:
Thus merrily live they in Vanity-fair.

Ferdinando and Elvira

© William Schwenck Gilbert

Then we let off paper crackers, each of which contained a motto,
And she listened while I read them, till her mother told her not
to.

Flight To Nature

© William Gilmore Simms

SICK of the crowd, the toil, the strife,
Sweet Nature, how I turn to thee,
Seeking for renovated life,
By brawling brook and shady tree!

Fallen Cities

© Gerald Gould

I gathered with a careless hand,

There where the waters night and day

False February

© John Payne

NOT seldom, whilst the Winter yet is king,

Whilst yet the meads are mute and boughs are bare,

For an Epitaph at Fiesole

LO! where the four mimosas blend their shade
In calm repose at last is Landor laid;
For ere he slept he saw them planted here
By her his soul had ever held most dear,
And he had livd enough when he had dried her tear.