Poems begining by M
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Minstrel's Book - Song And Structure
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
LET the Greek his plastic clay
Mould in human fashion,
Mogg Megone - Part I.
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Who stands on that cliff, like a figure of stone,
Unmoving and tall in the light of the sky,
Metamorphoses: Book The Eleventh
© Ovid
The End of the Eleventh 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 Big Brother
© Edgar Albert Guest
My big brother will git you fer that,
He'll shine up your eye and he'll step on your hat:
Memory
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Only snakes shed their skin,
So their souls can age and grow.
We, alas, do not resemble snakes,
We change souls, not bodies.
Mater Christianorum, Ora Pro Nobis
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
In the hour of grief and sorrow,
When my heart is full of care,
Mortality
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
"And we shall be changed.""And we shall be changed."
Ye dainty mosses, lichens grey,
Mensis Lacrimarum
© William Watson
March, that comes roaring, maned, with rampant paws,
And bleatingly withdraws;
My Friend
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
When first I looked upon the face of Pain
I shrank repelled, as one shrinks from a foe
Who stands with dagger poised, as for a blow.
I was in search of Pleasure and of Gain;
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part III.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
The great farm house of Malcolm Graem stood
Square shoulder'd and peak roof'd upon a hill,
Maidenhood
© Edith Nesbit
THROUGH her fair world of blossoms fresh and bright,
Veiled with her maiden innocence, she goes;
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book X - Karna-Badha - (Fall Of Karna)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
After the death of Karna, Salya led the Kuru troops on the eighteenth
and last day of the war, and fell. A midnight slaughter in the Pandav
camp, perpetrated by the vengeful son of Drona, concludes the war.
Duryodhan, left wounded by Bhima, heard of the slaughter and died
happy.
More Sonnets At Christmas IV
© Allen Tate
Thus light, your flesh made pale and sinister
And put off like a dog that's had his day,
You will be Plato's kept philosopher,
Albino man bleached from the mortal clay,
Mild-mannered, gifted in your master's ease
While the sun squats upon the waveless seas.
Monday In Easter Week
© John Keble
Go up and watch the new-born rill
Just trickling from its mossy bed,
Streaking the heath-clad hill
With a bright emerald thread.
Morning
© Emily Dickinson
WILL there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Maiden's Heart.
© Robert Crawford
The sweet, fresh, red rose
of a maiden's heart
That opes in the dewy
ecstasy of love.
Marburg
© Boris Pasternak
I quivered. I flared up, and then was extinguished.
I shook. I had made a proposal - but late,
Too late. I was scared, and she had refused me.
I pity her tears, am more blessed than a saint.
