Poems begining by M

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Modern Love: XLIX

© George Meredith

He found her by the ocean’s moaning verge,


Nor any wicked change in her discerned;

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Mary of Nazareth

© Clive Sansom

It was like music:
Hovering and floating there
With the sound of lutes and timbrels
In the night air.

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Mary's Tryst

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

Young Mary stole along the vale,
  To keep her tryst with Ulnor's lord;
A warrior clad in coat of mail
  Stood darkling by the brawling ford.

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March: An Ode

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

I

Ere frost-flower and snow-blossom faded and fell, and the splendour of winter had passed out of sight,

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Midsummer

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

After the May time and after the June time
Rare with blossoms and perfume sweet,
Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
The red midsummer of blazing heat,

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Mutation

© William Cullen Bryant

They talk of short-lived pleasure–be it so–

  Pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain

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Modern Love: XXVI

© George Meredith

Love ere he bleeds, an eagle in high skies,


Has earth beneath his wings: from reddened eve

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Machinist Talking

© Lesbia Harford

I sit at my machine,
Hour long beside me Vera aged nineteen,
Babbles her sweet and innocent tale of sex.

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Modern Love: XXII

© George Meredith

What may the woman labour to confess?


There is about her mouth a nervous twitch.

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My Country

© James Montgomery

  Man, through all ages of revolving time,
  Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
  Deems his own land of every land the pride,
  Beloved by Heaven o'er the world beside;
  His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
  A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.

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Modern Love: XIV

© George Meredith

What soul would bargain for a cure that brings


Contempt the nobler agony to kill?

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Metr: Boetius 1s 1 Quisquis Comp

© Thomas Parnell

The Man whose mind & actions still Sedate

Can bravely triumph ore ye thoughts of fate

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Moon From the Porch

© Annie Finch

Moon has dusks for walls,
October’s days for a floor,
crickets for rooms, windy halls.
Only one night is her door.

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My Garden

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

If I could put my woods in song
And tell what's there enjoyed,
All men would to my gardens throng,
And leave the cities void.

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Morning And Night

© Madison Julius Cawein


  ... Fresh from bathing in orient fountains,
  In wells of rock water and snow,
  Comes the Dawn with her pearl-brimming fingers
  O'er the thyme and the pines of yon mountain;
  Where she steps young blossoms fresh blow....

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Moonlight

© Paul Verlaine

Your soul is like a landscape fantasy,


Where masks and Bergamasks, in charming wise,

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Money Won’t Change It (but time will take you on)

© Cornelius Eady

You’re rich, lady, hissed the young woman at 
My mother as she bent in her garden. 
Look at what you’ve got, and it was 
Too much, the collards and tomatoes, 
A man, however lousy, taking care 
of the bills.

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Militia Women

© Mao Zedong

How bright and brave they look, shouldering five-foot rifles
On the parade ground lit up by the first gleams of day.
China's daughters have high-aspiring minds,
They love their battle array, not silks and satins.

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Madrono

© Francis Bret Harte

Captain of the Western wood,
Thou that apest Robin Hood !
Green above thy scarlet hose,
How thy velvet mantle shows !
Never tree like thee arrayed,
O thou gallant of the glade!

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Magazine Girl

© Edgar Albert Guest

ALL women are lovely and radiantly fair

In the magazine pages today,