Poems begining by G
/ page 45 of 52 /God's Skallywags
© Robert William Service
The God of Scribes looked down and saw
The bitter band of seven,
Who had outraged his holy law
And lost their hope of Heaven:
God's Vagabond
© Robert William Service
A passion to be free
Has ever mastered me;
To none beneath the sun
Will I bow down,--not one
Shall leash my liberty.
Golden Days
© Robert William Service
Another day of toil and strife,
Another page so white,
Within that fateful Log of Life
That I and all must write;
Grumpy Grandpa
© Robert William Service
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
As if they had been dipped in gore,
I'd like to set you lugging pails
And make you scrub the kitchen floor.
Growing Old
© Robert William Service
Somehow the skies don't seem so blue
As they used to be;
Blossoms have a fainter hue,
Grass less green I see.
Grandad
© Robert William Service
Heaven's mighty sweet, I guess;
Ain't no rush to git there:
Been a sinner, more or less;
Maybe wouldn't fit there.
Wicked still, bound to confess;
Might jest pine a bit there.
Gacela of the Dead Child
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Each afternoon in Granada,
each afternoon, a child dies.
Each afternoon the water sits down
and chats with its companions.
Gacela of the Dark Death
© Federico Garcia Lorca
I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.
Gacela of Unforseen Love
© Federico Garcia Lorca
No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.
Give Me Strength
© Rabindranath Tagore
This is my prayer to thee, my lord---strike,
strike at the root of penury in my heart.
Going
© Liam Wilkinson
I spent the morning off
like an antiquated fax machine.
You prodded me occasionally,
Good-Night
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.
God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.
© Stephen Crane
God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.
With the infinite skill of an All-Master
Made He the hull and the sails,
Held He the rudder
God lay dead in heaven
© Stephen Crane
God lay dead in heaven;
Angels sang the hymn of the end;
Purple winds went moaning,
Their wings drip-dripping
Going Home
© Wislawa Szymborska
He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Gloucester Moods
© William Vaughn Moody
A mile behind is Gloucester town
Where the flishing fleets put in,
A mile ahead the land dips down
And the woods and farms begin.
God's Grandeur
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Garden Francies
© Robert Browning
I. THE FLOWER'S NAMEHere's the garden she walked across,
Arm in my arm, such a short while since:
Hark, now I push its wicket, the moss
Hinders the hinges and makes them wince!
Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play
© Francis Thompson
Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow:
And some are sung, and that was yesterday,
And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow.
Gilded Gold
© Francis Thompson
Thou dost to rich attire a grace,
To let it deck itself with thee,
And teachest pomp strange cunning ways
To be thought simplicity.