Poems begining by G
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Glycine's Song
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A sunny shaft did I behold,
From sky to earth it slanted:
And poised therein a bird so bold
Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!
Gunga Din
© Rudyard Kipling
You may talk o' gin and beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But when it comes to slaughter
Grenley Water
© William Barnes
The sheädeless darkness o' the night
Can never blind my mem'ry's zight;
Gull In An Aery Morrice
© William Ernest Henley
Gulls in an aery morrice
Gleam and vanish and gleam . . .
The full sea, sleepily basking,
Dreams under skies of dream.
Give Me Back My Rags #4
© Vasko Popa
Get out of my walled infinity
Of the star circle round my heart
Of my mouthful of sun
Give Me Back My Rags #1
© Vasko Popa
My rags of pure dreaming
Of silk smiling of striped foreboding
Of my cloth of lace
Give Me Back My Rags
© Vasko Popa
Just come to my mind
My thoughts will scratch out your faceJust come into my sight
My eyes will start snarling at youJust open your mouth
My silence will smash your jawsJust remind me of you
Give Me Back My Rags #11
© Vasko Popa
I've wiped your face off my face
Ripped your shadow off my shadowLeveled the hills in you
Turned your plains into hillsSet your seasons quarreling
Turned all the ends of the world from youWrapped the path of my life around you
Give Me Back My Rags #12
© Vasko Popa
Enough chattering violets enough sweet trash
I won't hear anything know anything
Enough enough of all
Guilo
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Yes, yes! I love thee, Guilo; thee alone.
Why dost thou sigh, and wear that face of sorrow?
The sunshine is to-day's, although it shone
On yesterday, and may shine on to-morrow.
Ghost Glen
© Henry Kendall
"Shut your ears, stranger, or turn from Ghost Glen now,
For the paths are grown over, untrodden by men now;
Shut your ears, stranger," saith the grey mother, crooning
Her sorcery runic, when sets the half-moon in.
God the Artist
© Angela Morgan
God, when you thought of a pine tree,
How did you think of a star?
How did you dream of the Milky Way
To guide us from afar.
How did you think of a clean brown pool
Where flecks of shadows are?
Gods
© Anne Sexton
Ms. Sexton went out looking for the gods.
She began looking in the sky
expecting a large white angel with a blue crotch.
Going Gone
© Anne Sexton
Over stone walls and barns,
miles from the black-eyed Susans,
over circus tents and moon rockets
you are going, going.
Goodbye My Lover
© Margaret Widdemer
All the flags stream abroad, and the crowds wave and cry
And I watch for your face in the long lines marching by;
For my lips bade you go, but my heart would bid you stay
Oh, lad, and will the war be long, and you so far away?
And your step as you marched, would it lag or fall more true
If you know that my heart's gone to war to follow you?
Gratitude
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
If gratitude a poor man's virtue is,
'Tis one at least my sick soul can afford.
Bankrupt I am of all youth's charities,
But not of thanks. No. Thanks be to the Lord!
Ghosts
© Anne Sexton
Some ghosts are women,
neither abstract nor pale,
their breasts as limp as killed fish.
Not witches, but ghosts
who come, moving their useless arms
like forsaken servants.
Good-Night
© Edward Thomas
The skylarks are far behind that sang over the down;
I can hear no more those suburb nightingales;
Thrushes and blackbirds sing in the gardens of the town
In vain: the noise of man, beast, and machine prevails.
Gin The Goodwife Stint
© Basil Bunting
The ploughland has gone to bent
and the pasture to heather;
gin the goodwife stint,
she'll keep the house together.
