Poems begining by M
/ page 122 of 130 /
Merops
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
What care I, so they stand the same,
Things of the heavenly mind,
How long the power to give them fame
Tarries yet behind?
Musketaquid
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Because I was content with these poor fields,
Low open meads, slender and sluggish streams,
And found a home in haunts which others scorned,
The partial wood-gods overpaid my love,
Merlin II
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
The rhyme of the poet
Modulates the king's affairs,
Balance-loving nature
Made all things in pairs.
Monadnoc
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I heard and I obeyed,
Assured that he who pressed the claim,
Well-known, but loving not a name,
Was not to be gainsaid.
Merlin I
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thy trivial harp will never please
Or fill my craving ear;
Its chords should ring as blows the breeze,
Free, peremptory, clear.
Mithridates
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I cannot spare water or wine,
Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose;
From the earth-poles to the Line,
All between that works or grows,
Every thing is kin of mine.
Merlin
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I
Thy trivial harp will never please
Or fill my craving ear;
Its chords should ring as blows the breeze,
Morning Rain
© Tu Fu
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Moonlit Night
© Tu Fu
Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches
Alone in our room. And my little, far-off
Children, too young to understand what keeps me
Away, or even remember Chang'an. By now,
Moon In Virgo
© James Lee Jobe
You are not beaten. The simple music rises up,
children's voices in the air, sound floating out
My Mother On An Evening In Late Summer
© Mark Strand
1
When the moon appears
and a few wind-stricken barns stand out
in the low-domed hills
Mulligan's Mare
© Andrew Barton Paterson
Oh, Mulligan's bar was the deuce of a place
To drink, and to fight, and to gamble and race;
The height of choice spirits from near and from far
Were all concentrated on Mulligan's bar.
Morgan's Dog
© Andrew Barton Paterson
Those that are healthy and strong
Battle away in the lead,
Carting the others along,
Eating the whole of the feed.
Mulga Bill's Bicycle
© Andrew Barton Paterson
'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode,
That perched above the Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road.
He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray,
But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away.
It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak,
It whistled down the awful slope towards the Dead Man's Creek.
Moving On
© Andrew Barton Paterson
In this war we're always moving,
Moving on;
When we make a friend another friend has gone;
Should a woman's kindly face
Matt's Manifesto
© Jonathan Bohrn
The Renaissance men are aging now,
having survived Industrialization's Original Sin
and the Information Age flood;
The need for specialization
My Heart Is Heavy
© Sara Teasdale
My heart is heavy with many a song
Like ripe fruit bearing down the tree,
But I can never give you one --
My songs do not belong to me.
Mementos
© Charlotte Bronte
I scarcely think, for ten long years,
A hand has touched these relics old;
And, coating each, slow-formed, appears,
The growth of green and antique mould.
Milkmaid
© Laurie Lee
The girl's far treble, muted to the heat,
calls like a fainting bird across the fields
to where her flock lies panting for her voice,
their black horns buried deep in marigolds.
Mail Call
© Randall Jarrell
The letters always just evade the hand
One skates like a stone into a beam, falls like a bird.
Surely the past from which the letters rise
Is waiting in the future, past the graves?
