Poems begining by F
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From Whose Beauty the Depths Are Lit
© Pierre Reverdy
When one stands before the throne of glory, he begins reciting
Flower-De-Luce: Giotto's Tower
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How many lives, made beautiful and sweet
By self-devotion and by self-restraint,
For three whose reflex was yes
© Richard Jones
Nobody I know is a god. A mother and son
fall into the river's million hands, the river's
from The Shepheardes Calender: October
© Edmund Spenser
The dapper ditties, that I wont devise,
To feede youthes fancie, and the flocking fry,
Delighten much: what I the bett for thy?
They han the pleasure, I a sclender prise.
I beate the bush, the byrds to them doe flye:
What good thereof to Cuddie can arise?
Fragen
© Bertolt Brecht
Schreib mir, was du anhast! Ist es warm?
Schreib mir, wie du liegst! Liegst du auch weich?
Schreib mir, wie du aussiehst! Ist´s noch gleich?
Schreib mir, was dir fehlt! Ist es mein Arm?
Fragmentary Ending Of A Poem II
© Thomas Parnell
Then do not Cloe do not more
Boast what success youve found
from The Task, Book VI: The Winter Walk at Noon
© William Cowper
(excerpt)
Thus heav’n-ward all things tend. For all were once
Ferdiah; Or, The Fight At The Ford
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Time is it, O Cuchullin, to arise,
Time for the fearful combat to prepare;
For hither with the anger in his eyes,
To fight thee comes Ferdiah called the Fair.
from Venus and Adonis
© William Shakespeare
Even as the sunne with purple-colourd face,
Had tane his last leaue of the weeping morne,
Rose-cheekt Adonis hied him to the chace,
Hunting he lou'd, but loue he laught to scorne,
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amaine vnto him,
And like a bold fac'd suter ginnes to woo him.
For the Tattooed Man by Sharmila Voorakkara: American Life in Poetry #167 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laur
© Ted Kooser
and each pinned and martyred limb aches for more.
Her memory wraps you like a vise.
How simple the pain that trails and graces
the length of your body. How it fans, blazes,
writes itself over in the blood's tightening sighs,
bruises into wisdom you have no name for.
American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright ©2005 by Sharmila Voorakkara, whose most recent book of poetry is âFire Wheel,â? Univ. of Akron Press, 2003. Introduction copyright © 2009 by The Poetry Foundation. The introduction's author, Ted Kooser, served as United States Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress from 2004-2006. We do not accept unsolicited manuscripts.
from War is Kind ["Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind"]
© Stephen Crane
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
from Lyrics of the Street
© Julia Ward Howe
Outside the Party
Thick throng the snow-flakes, the evening is dreary,
Glad rings the music in yonder gay hall;
On her who listens here, friendless and weary,
Heavier chill than the winters doth fall.
Family Love
© Amado Ruiz de Nervo
I adore my dear mother,
I adore my dear father too;
No one loves me as much
As they know how to love me.
For Christmas Day, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing
© Martin Madan
Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King.
Fragment: Ye Gentle Visitations Of Calm Thought
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought--
Moods like the memories of happier earth,
Which come arrayed in thoughts of little worth,
Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought,--
But that the clouds depart and stars remain,
While they remain, and ye, alas, depart!
from The Bridge: Quaker Hill
© Hart Crane
Above them old Mizzentop, palatial white
Hostelry—floor by floor to cinquefoil dormer
Portholes the ceilings stack their stoic height.
Long tiers of windows staring out toward former
Faces—loose panes crown the hill and gleam
At sunset with a silent, cobwebbed patience . . .
Fragments Written For Hellas
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Fairest of the Destinies,
Disarray thy dazzling eyes:
Keener far thy lightnings are
From Blossoms
© Li-Young Lee
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.
