Poems begining by F
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Flaxman
© Fuller Margaret
We deemed the secret lost, the spirit gone, Which spake in Greek simplicity of thought, And in the forms of gods and heroes wroughtEternal beauty from the sculptured stone,-A higher charm than modern culture won With all the wealth of metaphysic lore, Gifted to analyze, dissect, explore
Fragment in Imitation of Wordsworth
© Fanshawe Catherine Maria
There is a river clear and fair, 'Tis neither broad nor narrow;It winds a little here and there --It winds about like any hare;And then it takes as straight a courseAs on the turnpike road a horse, Or through the air an arrow
For the Baptist
© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)
The last and greatest herald of heaven's king,Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,Which he than man more harmless found and mild;His food was locusts and what young doth spring,With honey that from virgin hives distill'd;Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thingMade him appear, long since from earth exil'd
"Faith" is fine invention (185)
© Emily Dickinson
"Faith" is a fine inventionFor gentlemen who see,But Microscopes are prudentIn an emergency!
Flying Deeper into the Century
© Pier Giorgio Di Cicco
Flying deeper into the centuryis exhilarating, the faces of loved ones eaten outslowly, the panhandles of flesh warding offthe air, the smiling plots
Forty Below
© Dafoe Christopher
From this valley we hope to be going,When at last we can travel alone,For we're sick of the snow and the dust storms,In Toronto we'll find a new home.
Fracture
© Couture Dani
There are things my body is not telling me:late nights and friends I'll never meet
Fortuna
© Carlyle Thomas
The wind blows east, the wind blows west,And the frost falls and the rain:A weary heart went thankful to rest,And must rise to toil again, 'gain,And must rise to toil again.
For a' that and a' that
© Brooks Shirley
More luck to honest poverty, It claims respect, and a' that;But honest wealth's a better thing, We dare be rich for a' that
From the Far West
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
'Tis a song of the Never Never land--Set to the tune of a scorching gale On the sandhills red, When the grasses deadLoudly rustle, and bow the headTo the breath of its dusty hail:
Fogarty's Gin
© Barcroft Henry Thomas Boake
A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall,And a message: "Come out to the back of the run--Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun!Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay:For the men from Monkyra have mustered the run--Cows and calves, calves of ours, without ever a brand,Fifty head, if there's one, on the camp there they stand
For the Fallen
© Binyon Heward Laurence
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,England mourns for her dead across the sea.Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,Fallen in the cause of the free.
Fatigued
© Hilaire Belloc
I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.But Money gives me pleasure all the time.
Frankie and Johnnie
© Anonymous
Frankie and Johnnie were lovers,O, my Gawd, how they could love,They swore to be true to each other,As true as the stars above; He was her man, but he done her wrong.
Foweles in the Frith
© Anonymous
Foweles in the frith,The fisses in the flod,And I mon waxe wod;Mulch sorwe I walke withFor best of bon and blod.
For Christmas Day: Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
© Whitefield George
Hark! the herald Angels sing,Glory to the new-born King,Peace on earth and mercy mild,God and sinner reconcil'd. Hark! the herald Angels sing, Glory to the new-born King.
For Christmas Day in the Morning
© Anonymous
The first Nowell the Angel did sayWas to three poor Shepherds in the fields as they lay;In fields where they lay keeping their sheepIn a cold winter's night that was so deep
