Poems begining by M
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My Dearest Frank, I Wish You Joy
© Jane Austen
My dearest Frank, I wish you joy
Of Mary's safety with a Boy,
Whose birth has given little pain
Compared with that of Mary Jane.--
Mock Panegyric on a Young Friend
© Jane Austen
In measured verse I'll now rehearse
The charms of lovely Anna:
And, first, her mind is unconfined
Like any vast savannah.
Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green
© Jane Austen
Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green,
As, on opening the box, may be seen,
Some years of a Black Ploughman's Gauze,
To be made up directly, because
Mid-december
© Gerald England
A full moon shines
over the morning frost;
the lanes are full of late-fallen leaves;
walking across the mulch
is almost as tricky
as treading over ice.
Mourning Yin Yao
© Wang Wei
We follow you home to the Mountain.
Back again through oak and green pine.
Beyond the White Clouds you stay forever.
Only this stream runs down to Humankind.
Mazeppa
© Lord Byron
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day,
When fortune left the royal Swede -
Around a slaughtered army lay,
No more to combat and to bleed.
Morning Thoughts
© James Montgomery
What secret hand at morning light,
By stealth unseals mine eye,
Draws back the curtain of the night,
And opens earth and sky?
My Dream
© William Schwenck Gilbert
The other night, from cares exempt,
I slept - and what d'you think I dreamt?
I dreamt that somehow I had come
To dwell in Topsy-Turveydom -
Morning Hymn
© Franz Werfel
I am not dead. Through slit and crack
The piercing ray only glanced me,
And in the glow of self-possession
I survive once more once again.
Maid of Athens, ere we part
© Lord Byron
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
Zo? mou sas agapo.
My Soul is Dark
© Lord Byron
My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
THIS is Christ's birthday: long ago
He lay upon His Mother's knee,
Who kissed and blessed Him soft and low--
God's gift to her, as you to me.
My Epitaph
© George Gordon Byron
Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my Lamp in strongly strove;
But Romanelli was so stout,
He beat all three, and blew it out.
My Man
© Sharon Esther Lampert
My Man is passionate and strong, all through
the night, I know his emotional,
spiritual, and physical being; I feel
the breadth and depth of his masculinity.
My Love (Do Not Ask Me)
© Nizar Qabbani
Do not ask me, the name of my love
I fear for you, from the fragrance of perfume
contained in a bottle, if you smashed it,
drowning you, in spilled scent
My Daughter at 14, Christmas Dance, 1981
© Maria Mazziotti Gillan
Panic in your face, you write questions
to ask him. When he arrives,
you are serene, your fear
unbetrayed. How unlike me you are.
Mother, I cannot mind my Wheel
© Walter Savage Landor
MOTHER, I cannot mind my wheel;
My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
O, if you felt the pain I feel!
But O, who ever felt as I?
Mild is the Parting Year
© Walter Savage Landor
Mild is the parting year, and sweet
The odour of the falling spray;
Life passes on more rudely fleet,
And balmless is its closing day.
Memory
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
Yet when the year departs
He takes his gifts with him--
"Oh, Robber!" we cry,
Aghast and weeping,
"Nay," he replies, "I did but lend.
Still, for your weeping, I will leave you something.
Mariana In The North
© Victoria Mary Sackville-West
All her youth is gone, her beautiful youth outworn,
Daughter of tarn and tor, the moors that were once her home
No longer know her step on the upland tracks forlorn
Where she was wont to roam.
