Poems begining by G
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Gnothi Seauton
© Samuel Johnson
What then remains? Must I, in slow decline,
To mute inglorious ease old age resign?
Or, bold ambition kindling in my breast,
Attempt some arduous task? Or, were it best,
Brooding o'er lexicons to pass the day,
And in that labour drudge my life away?
Guinevere
© Alfred Tennyson
`Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill!
Late, late, so late! but we can enter still.
Too late, too late! ye cannot enter now.
George Moore
© Marianne Clarke Moore
So far as the future is concerned,
Shall not one say, with the Russian philosopher,
How is one to know what one doesnt know?
So far as the present is concerned,
Grammers Shoes
© William Barnes
I do seem to zee Grammer as she did use
Vor to show us, at Chris'mas, her weddèn shoes,
Girls Spinning
© Padraic Colum
FIRST GIRL
MALLO lero iss im bo nero!
Go where they're threshing and find me my lover,
Mallo lero iss im bo bairn!
God Is My Witness
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
God knows it. And he knows how the world's tear
Touched me. And He is witness of my wrath,
How it was kindled against murderers
Who slew for gold, and how upon their path
I met them. Since which day the World in arms
Strikes at my life with angers and alarms.
Green Tea by Dale Ritterbusch: American Life in Poetry #83 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Poems of simple pleasure, poems of quiet celebration, well, they aren't anything like those poems we were asked to wrestle with in high school, our teachers insisting that we get a headlock on THE MEANING. This one by Dale Ritterbusch of Wisconsin is more my cup of tea.
Gravelly Run
© Archie Randolph Ammons
I don’t know somehow it seems sufficient
to see and hear whatever coming and going is,
losing the self to the victory
of stones and trees,
of bending sandpit lakes, crescent
round groves of dwarf pine:
Grand Rapids Cricket Club
© Julia A Moore
In Grand Rapids is a handsome club,
Of men that cricket play,
Grace
© Joy Harjo
Like Coyote, like Rabbit, we could not contain our terror and clowned our way through a season of false midnights. We had to swallow that town with laughter, so it would go down easy as honey. And one morning as the sun struggled to break ice, and our dreams had found us with coffee and pancakes in a truck stop along Highway 80, we found grace.
I could say grace was a woman with time on her hands, or a white buffalo escaped from memory. But in that dingy light it was a promise of balance. We once again understood the talk of animals, and spring was lean and hungry with the hope of children and corn.
I would like to say, with grace, we picked ourselves up and walked into the spring thaw. We didn’t; the next season was worse. You went home to Leech Lake to work with the tribe and I went south. And, Wind, I am still crazy. I know there is something larger than the memory of a dispossessed people. We have seen it.
Gratitudeis not the mention
© Emily Dickinson
Gratitudeis not the mention
Of a Tenderness,
But its still appreciation
Out of Plumb of Speech.
God Bless America
© John Fuller
When they confess that they have lost the penial bone and outer space is
Once again a numinous void, when they’re kept out of Other Places,
And Dr Fieser falls asleep at last and dreams of unburnt faces,
When gold medals are won by the ton for forgetting about the different races,
God Bless America.
Gareth And Lynette
© Alfred Tennyson
To whom the mother said,
'True love, sweet son, had risked himself and climbed,
And handed down the golden treasure to him.'
God of the Open Air
© Henry Van Dyke
But One, but One,-ah, child most dear,
And perfect image of the Love Unseen,-
Walked every day in pastures green,
And all his life the quiet waters by,
Reading their beauty with a tranquil eye.
Give Me A Day
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
GIVE me a day, beloved, that I may set
A jewel in my heart--I'll brave regret,
If, on the morrow, you shall say "forget"!
Grief
© Edith Wharton
For there she rules omnipotent, whose will
Compels a mute acceptance of her chart;
Who holds the world, and lo! it cannot fill
Her mighty hand; who will be served apart
With uncommunicable rites, and still
Surrender of the undivided heart.
