Poems begining by F
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First Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
Lessons sweet of spring returning,
Welcome to the thoughtful heart!
Fragment VIII
© James Macpherson
Such, Fingal! were thy words; but
thy words I hear no more. Sightless
I sit by thy tomb. I hear the wind in
the wood; but no more I hear my
friends. The cry of the hunter is over.
The voice of war is ceased.
For The Dedication Of The New City Library, Boston
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
PROUDLY, beneath her glittering dome,
Our three-hilled city greets the morn;
Here Freedom found her virgin home,--
The Bethlehem where her babe was born.
Flora
© Charlotte Turner Smith
REMOTE from scenes, where the o'erwearied mind
Shrinks from the crimes and follies of mankind,
First Footsteps
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
A little way, more soft and sweet
Than fields aflower with May,
A babe's feet, venturing, scarce complete
A little way.
Fragments - Lines 1327 - 1334
© Theognis of Megara
My boy, as long as your cheeks and chin are smooth, I shall never
Cease to praise you, not even if I am fated to die.
Firebrand
© Harry Crosby
What is your feeling about the revolutionary spirit of your age, as expressed, for instance, in such movements as communism, surrealism, anarchism?
The revolutionary spirit of our age (as expressed by communism, surrealism, anarchism, madness) is a hot firebrand thrust into the dark lantern of the world.
In Nine Decades
a Mad Queen shall be born.
Fragment: Great Spirit
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Great Spirit whom the sea of boundless thought
Nurtures within its unimagined caves,
In which thou sittest sole, as in my mind,
Giving a voice to its mysterious waves--
Funeral Of Youth, The: Threnody
© Rupert Brooke
The day that YOUTH had died,
There came to his grave-side,
In decent mourning, from the country's ends,
Those scatter'd friends
Finding
© Rupert Brooke
From the candles and dumb shadows,
And the house where love had died,
I stole to the vast moonlight
And the whispering life outside.
Failure
© Rupert Brooke
All the great courts were quiet in the sun,
And full of vacant echoes: moss had grown
Over the glassy pavement, and begun
To creep within the dusty council-halls.
An idle wind blew round an empty throne
And stirred the heavy curtains on the walls.
Flanders Fields
© Elizabeth Daryush
Here the scanted daisy glows
Glorious as the carmined rose;
Here the hill-top's verdure mean
Fair is with unfading green;
Here, where sorrow still must tread,
All her graves are garlanded.
Falstaff's Lament Over Prince Hal Become Henry V
© Herman Melville
One that I cherished,
Yea, loved as a son -
Up early, up late with,
My promising one:
No use in good nurture,
None, lads, none!
Flor Da Mocidade
© Joaquim Maria Machado de Assis
Eu conheço a mais bela flor;
És tu, rosa da mocidade,
Nascida aberta para o amor.
Eu conheço a mais bela flor.
Freedom of Love
© André Breton
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
Fairy Tale (2)
© Katherine Mansfield
Now folds the Tree of Day its perfect flowers,
And every bloom becomes a bud again,
Shut and sealed up against the golden showers
Of bees that hover in the velvet hours….
For A Virgin And Child By Hans Memmelinck
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
(In the Academy of Bruges)
MYSTERY: God, man's life, born into man
Fragment. "Crotchetsodd mixings up of soul and sense"
© John Kenyon
Crotchetsodd mixings up of soul and sense
(Sense, if the truth were told, oft mastering Soul)
