Poems begining by F
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Finland
© Robert Graves
Feet and faces tingle
In that frore land:
Legs wobble and go wingle,
You scarce can stand.
For These
© Edward Thomas
An acre of land between the shore and the hills,
Upon a ledge that shows my kingdoms three,
The lovely visible earth and sky and sea
Where what the curlew needs not, the farmer tills:
Forgotten
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FORGOTTEN! Can it be a few swift rounds
Of Time's great chariot wheels have crushed to naught
The memory of those fearful sights and sounds,
With speechless misery fraught--
Wherethro' we hope to gain the Hesperian height,
Where Freedom smiles in light?
Far Within Us #4
© Vasko Popa
Green gloves rustle
On the avenue's branchesThe evening carries us under its arm
By a path which leaves no traceThe rain falls on its knees
Before the fugitive windowsThe yards come out of their gates
Far Within Us #7
© Vasko Popa
Toothed eyes fly
Over still watersAround us purple lips
Flutter from branchesScreams hit the blue
And fall onto pillowsOur homes hide
Far Within Us #2
© Vasko Popa
A shudder on the ocean of tea in the cup
Rust taking hold
On the edges of our laughter
A snake coiled in the depths of the mirror
Far Within Us #1
© Vasko Popa
We raise our arms
The street climbs into the sky
We lower our eyes
The roofs go down into the earth
Flight Of Swans
© Robinson Jeffers
One who sees giant Orion, the torches of winter midnight,
Enormously walking above the ocean in the west of heaven;
For the Moore Centennial Celebration
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
ENCHANTER of Erin, whose magic has bound us,
Thy wand for one moment we fondly would claim,
Entranced while it summons the phantoms around us
That blush into life at the sound of thy name.
Fitz-Greene Halleck
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Among their graven shapes to whom
Thy civic wreaths belong,
O city of his love, make room
For one whose gift was song.
Fragment: My Head Is Wild With Weeping
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
My head is wild with weeping for a grief
Which is the shadow of a gentle mind.
I walk into the air (but no relief
To seek,--or haply, if I sought, to find;
It came unsought);--to wonder that a chief
Among mens spirits should be cold and blind.
For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach
© Anne Sexton
In his tenth July some instinct
taught him to arm the waiting wave,
a giant where its mouth hung open.
He rode on the lip that buoyed him there
Four Years
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
At the Midsummer, when the hay was down,
Said I mournful - Though my life be in its prime,
Bare lie my meadows all shorn before their time,
O'er my sere woodlands the leaves are turning brown;
Festina Lente
© James Russell Lowell
But vain was all their hoarsest bass,
Their old experience out of place,
And spite of croaking and entreating,
The vote was carried in marsh-meeting.
For Righteousness' Sake
© John Greenleaf Whittier
THE age is dull and mean. Men creep,
Not walk; with blood too pale and tame
For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further
© Anne Sexton
Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
something worth learning
