Poems begining by M
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Metamorphoses: Book The Fifth
© Ovid
The End of the Fifth 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
My Paw Said So
© Edgar Albert Guest
Wolves ain't so bad if you treat 'em all right,
My Paw said so.
They're as fond of a game as they are of a fight,
My Paw said so.
An' all of the animals found in the wood
Ain't always ferocious. Most times they are good.
Moss on a Wall
© Henry Kendall
Dim dreams it hath of singing ways,
Of far-off woodland water-heads,
And shining ends of April days
Amongst the yellow runnel-beds.
My Lady April
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Say, doth she weep for very wantonness?
Or is it that she dimly doth foresee
Across her youth the joys grow less and less
The burden of the days that are to be:
Autumn and withered leaves and vanity,
And winter bringing end in barrenness.
Mussel Hunter At Rock Harbor
© Sylvia Plath
Inched from their pygmy burrows
And from the trench-dug mud, all Camouflaged in mottled mail
Of browns and greens. Each wore one
Claw swollen to a shield large
As itself-no fiddler's arm
Grown Gargantuan by trade,
My Beloved
© Rabia al Basri
My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
My Orchad In Linden Lea
© William Barnes
Ithin the woodlands, flowry gleaded,
By the woak trees mossy moot,
Midsummer Mobile
© Sylvia Plath
Begin by dipping your brush into clear light.
Then syncopate a sky of Dufy-blue
With tilted spars of sloops revolved by white
Gulls in a feathered fugue of wings. Outdo
Moderate Men and Moderate Measures
© George Canning
CHORUS.
Gently purging,
Gently purging,
Gently purging Britain's weal.[1]
"My heart shall be thy garden"
© Alice Meynell
For as these come and go, and quit our pine
To follow the sweet season, or, new-corners,
Sing one song only from our alder-trees,
My heart has thoughts, which, though thine eyes hold mine.
Flit to the silent world and other summers,
With wings that dip beyond the silver seas.
Mother Earth
© Henry Van Dyke
Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed,
Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the field,
Magnolia Gardens
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YES, found at last,--the earthly paradise!
Here by slow currents of the silvery stream
It smiles, a shining wonder, a fair dream,
A matchless miracle to mortal eyes:
May Song II
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
BETWEEN wheatfield and corn,
Between hedgerow and thorn,
Between pasture and tree,
Where's my sweetheart
Tell it me!
Marcus Varro
© Eugene Field
Marcus Varro went up and down
The places where old books were sold;
He ransacked all the shops in town
For pictures new and pictures old.
Mother's Glasses
© Edgar Albert Guest
I've told about the times that Ma can't find her pocketbook,
And how we have to hustle round for it to help her look,
But there's another care we know that often comes our way,
I guess it happens easily a dozen times a day.
It starts when first the postman through the door a letter passes,
And Ma says: "Goodness gracious me! Wherever are my glasses?"
May Day
© Edith Nesbit
Will you go a-maying, a-maying, a-maying,
Come and be my Queen of May and pluck the may with me?
The fields are full of daisy buds and new lambs playing,
The bird is on the nest, dear, the blossom's on the tree."
