Poems begining by F
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Fire
© Dorothea Mackellar
This life that we call our own
Is neither strong nor free;
A flame in the wind of death,
It trembles ceaselessly.
From Boethius: De Consolatione Philosophiae; Book III. Metre 5
© Samuel Johnson
The man who pants for ample sway,
Must bid his passions all obey;
Fences by Pat Mora: American Life in Poetry #192 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Class, status, privilege; despite all our talk about equality, they're with us wherever we go. In this poem, Pat Mora, who grew up in a Spanish speaking home in El Paso, Texas, contrasts the lives of rich tourists with the less fortunate people who serve them. The titles of poems are often among the most important elements, and this one is loaded with implication.
Fences
Mouths full of laughter,
the turistas come to the tall hotel
with suitcases full of dollars.
From The Sunshine of the Gods
© James Bayard Taylor
AH, moment not to be purchased,
Not to be won by prayer,
From Allan Cunningham, To George Borrow, On His Proposing To Translate The Kiaepe Viser
© George Borrow
Sing, sing, my friend; breathe life again
Through Norways song and Denmarks strain:
Faith
© Edgar Albert Guest
This much I know:
God does not wrong us here,
Though oft His judgments seem severe
And reason falters 'neath the blow,
Some day we'll learn 'twas better so.
Foreward
© Madison Julius Cawein
_And one, perchance, will read and sigh:
"What aimless songs! Why will he sing
Of nature that drags out her woe
Through wind and rain, and sun, and snow,
From miserable spring to spring?"
Then put me by._
Failures
© Edgar Albert Guest
'Tis better to have tried in vain,
Sincerely striving for a goal,
Than to have lived upon the plain
An idle and a timid soul.
For music
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
ALONG the shore, along the shore
I see the wavelets meeting:
But thee I see--ah, never more,
For all my wild heart's beating.
Fleas Interest Me So Much
© Pablo Neruda
Fleas interest me so much
that I let them bite me for hours.
They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit,
machines that admit of no appeal.
Fragment
© John Clare
The cataract, whirling down the precipice,
Elbows down rocks and, shouldering, thunders through.
Finch & Frog
© Wilhelm Busch
The finch trills in the apple tree
His: Tiriliree!
A frog climbs slowly up to him,
Up to the treetop's leafy rim
And puffs right up and croaks: "Hallooo,
Ol' chum: see, I c'n do it too!"
Fuscara; or, the Bee Errant
© John Cleveland
Nature's confectioner, the bee
(Whose suckets are moist alchemy,
Finisterre
© Sylvia Plath
This was the land's end: the last fingers, knuckled and rheumatic,
Cramped on nothing. Black
For Myself Alone, I Would Not Be
© Louisa May Alcott
"For myself alone, I would not be
Ambitious in my wish; but, for you,
I would be trebled twenty times myself;
A thousand times more fair,
Ten thousand times more rich."
For All Prisoners And Captives
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
OVER the English trees and the English meadows
Twilight is falling clear,
But my heart walks far in the homeless winds and the shadows
For those who are not here.
First Love
© William Schwenck Gilbert
A clergyman in Berkshire dwelt,
The REVEREND BERNARD POWLES,
And in his church there weekly knelt
At least a hundred souls.
Fortunatus Nimium
© Robert Seymour Bridges
I
I have lain in the sun,
I have toiled as I might,
I have thought as I would,
And now it is night.
