Poems begining by M
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My Father Teaches Me to Dream by Jan Beatty: American Life in Poetry #72 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laure
© Ted Kooser
Those who survived the Great Depression of the 1930s have a tough, no-nonsense take on what work is. If when I was young I'd told my father I was looking for fulfilling work, he would have looked at me as if I'd just arrived from Mars. Here the Pennsylvania poet, Jan Beatty, takes on the voice of her father to illustrate the thinking of a generation of Americans.
Magnificence
© John Skelton
What I say herke a worde.
Fansy.
Do away I say the deuylles torde.
Counterfet coun.
Mid-Winter
© Madison Julius Cawein
All day the clouds hung ashen with the cold;
And through the snow the muffled waters fell;
Much and More
© George MacDonald
When thy heart, love-filled, grows graver,
And eternal bliss looks nearer,
Ask thy heart, nor show it favour,
Is the gift or giver dearer?
My Thoughts
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Why did you come, my thoughts, in instant,
Like thieves to rob my quiet habitation,
Like vultures, gloomy and malignant,
With thirst for dread retaliation.
Manfred: A Dramatic Poem. Act III.
© George Gordon Byron
HERMAN
It wants but one till sunset,
And promises a lovely twilight.
Moon Over The Sea
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
The moon relinquished sharp-edge cliffs at sea line,
And with transparent gold: the waters shine;
On board of their pointed boat, this evening
The friends enjoy their heated glass of wine.
Men Honoured Above Angels
© John Newton
Now let us join with hearts and tongues,
And emulate the angels' songs;
Yea, sinners may address their King
In songs that angels cannot sing.
Mild the mist upon the hill
© Emily Jane Brontë
Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.
Man into a Churchyard
© Bernard Gutteridge
He comes unknown and heard and stands there
Breathes there hardly and hands grip
Flesh and walking stick. Skips over mounds
To land flat footed in a bowl of roses.
Memory's River
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
In Nature's bright blossoms not always reposes
That strange subtle essence more rare than their bloom,
My Friend
© Khalil Gibran
My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear--a
care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee
from my negligence.
Memory
© Leon Gellert
The tangled twilight of your hair
Blew soft against my face,
Ah! We were young and you were fair,
This was the time
And this the place.
Mountaineer-Song
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Deep in a glen, retir'd and green,
How sweetly smiles my native cot;
Where peace, and joy, and love serene,
Have sanctified the tranquil spot!
Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth
© Ovid
The End of the Ninth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Masked
© Madison Julius Cawein
Lying alone I dreamed a dream last night:
Methought that Joy had come to comfort me
For all the past, its suffering and slight,
Yet in my heart I felt this could not be.
Metaphysics
© Franklin Pierce Adams
A man morose and dull and sad--
Go ask him why he feels so bad.
Behold! He answers it is drink
That put his nerves upon the blink.
My Thoughs Go Marching Like An Armed Host
© William Stanley Braithwaite
MY thoughts go marching like an armed host
Out of the city of silence, guns and cars;
Mischief
© Ann Taylor
LET those who're fond of idle tricks,
Of throwing stones, and hurling bricks,
And all that sort of fun,
Now hear a tale of idle Jim,
That warning they may take by him,
Nor do as he has done.
