Poems begining by M
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My Love Is Like To Ice
© Edmund Spenser
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
How comes it then that this her cold so great
Miracles
© Conrad Aiken
Twilight is spacious, near things in it seem far,
And distant things seem near.
Melancholly
© William Strode
Hence, hence, all you vaine delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly:
Ther's nought in this life sweete,
Moonlight
© John Kenyon
Not alway from the lessons of the schools,
Taught evermore by those who trust them not,
Meditations Divine and Moral
© Anne Bradstreet
A ship that bears much sail, and little ballast, is easily
overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his
heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering.
The finest bread has the least bran; the purest honey, the
Magical Eraser
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
She wouldn't believe
This pencil has
A magical eraser.
She said I was a silly moo,
Mind Games
© Dimitris Varos
I am a waterfall in the desert.
A rain from a cloudless sky.
A well known but unborn child.
An insistence experience
that you never had.
More Light! More Light!
© Anthony Evan Hecht
For Heinrich Blucher and Hannah Arendt
Composed in the Tower before his execution
These moving verses, and being brought at that time
Painfully to the stake, submitted, declaring thus:
"I implore my God to witness that I have made no crime."
My Only Property.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Which from my bosom seeks to flow,
And each propitious passing hour
That suffers me in all its power
May.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hoverIn the air, as yet scarce warm;
Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,Peeps the sun through fragrant balm.
Gently rolls and heaves the oceanAs its waves the bank o'erflow.
And with ever restless motionMoves the verdure to and fro,Mirror'd brightly far below.What is now the foliage moving?Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,
Meditation Twenty
© Edward Taylor
View, all ye eyes above, this sight which flings
Seraphick Phancies in Chill Raptures high:
A Turffe of Clay, and yet bright Glories King:
From dust to Glory Angell-like to fly.
A Mortall Clod immortalizd behold,
Flyes through the skies swifter than Angells could.
My Sweetest Lesbia
© Thomas Campion
My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love,
And though the sager sort our deeds reprove,
Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive
Into their west, and straight again revive,
But soon as once set is our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.
May Song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
BETWEEN wheatfield and corn,
Between hedgerow and thorn,
Between pasture and tree,
Where's my sweetheart
Tell it me!
My Goddess.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
But unto us he
Hath his most versatile,
Most cherished daughter
Granted,--what joy!
Mischievous Joy.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AS a butterfly renew'd,When in life I breath'd my last,To the spots my flight I wing,Scenes of heav'nly rapture past,Over meadows, to the spring,
Round the hill, and through the wood.Soon a tender pair I spy,And I look down from my seatOn the beauteous maiden's head--When embodied there I meetAll I lost as soon as dead,
Happy as before am I.Him she clasps with silent smile,And his mouth the hour improves,Sent by kindly Deities;First from breast to mouth it roves,Then from mouth to hands it flies,
And I round him sport the while.And she sees me hov'ring near;Trembling at her lovers rapture,Up she springs--I fly away,"Dearest! let's the insect captureCome! I long to make my prey
Mahomet's Song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This song was intended to be introduced in
a dramatic poem entitled Mahomet, the plan of which was not carried
out by Goethe. He mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali
towards the end of the piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly
before his death, and when at the height of his glory, of which
it is typical.]
Maiden Wishes.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT pleasure to me
A bridegroom would be!
When married we are,
They call us mamma.
March.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
The time is absent still,
When all Spring's beauteous flowers,
When all Spring's beauteous flowers
Musings
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I sat by my window one night,
And watched how the stars grew high;
And the earth and skies were a splendid sight
To a sober and musing eye.
