Poems begining by M

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The wind comes whispering to me of the country green and cool--
Of redwing blackbirds chattering beside a reedy pool;
It brings me soothing fancies of the homestead on the hill,
And I hear the thrush's evening song and the robin's morning trill;
So I fall to thinking tenderly of those I used to know
Where the sassafras and snakeroot and checkerberries grow.

Mr. Dana, of the New York Sun

© Eugene Field

Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81
A man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.
His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, 'nd he wuz a sight ter view
Ez he walked inter the orfice 'nd inquired fer work ter do.

Mother and sphinx

© Eugene Field

(EGYPTIAN FOLK-SONG)Grim is the face that looks into the night
Over the stretch of sands;
A sullen rock in a sea of white--
A ghostly shadow in ghostly light,

Mother and child

© Eugene Field

One night a tiny dewdrop fell
Into the bosom of a rose,--
"Dear little one, I love thee well,
Be ever here thy sweet repose!"

Mediaeval eventide song

© Eugene Field

Come hither, lyttel childe, and lie upon my breast to-night,
For yonder fares an angell yclad in raimaunt white,
And yonder sings ye angell as onely angells may,
And his songe ben of a garden that bloometh farre awaye.

Mary smith

© Eugene Field

Away down East where I was reared amongst my Yankee kith,
There used to live a pretty girl whose name was Mary Smith;
And though it's many years since last I saw that pretty girl,
And though I feel I'm sadly worn by Western strife and whirl;

Marthy's younkit

© Eugene Field

The mountain brook sung lonesomelike, and loitered on its way
Ez if it waited for a child to jine it in its play;
The wild-flowers uv the hillside bent down their heads to hear
The music uv the little feet that had somehow grown so dear;

Madge: Ye Hoyden

© Eugene Field

At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft,
Ffor that a romping wench was shee--
"Now marke this rede," they bade her oft,
"Forsooken sholde your folly bee!"

Midnight In The Pantry

© Edgar Albert Guest

You can boast your round of pleasures, praise the sound of popping corks,

Where the orchestra is playing to the rattle of the forks;

Minha Terra!

© Antônio Gonçalves Dias

Quanto é grato em terra estranha
Sob um céu menos querido,
Entre feições estrangeiras,
Ver um rosto conhecido;

Music

© Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin

I hug you, -

Both the rainbow to the river

Midnight

© Archibald Lampman

From where I sit, I see the stars,
And down the chilly floor
The moon between the frozen bars
Is glimmering dim and hoar.

M'Fingal - Canto I

© John Trumbull

When Yankies, skill'd in martial rule,

First put the British troops to school;

Mr Cogito And The Imagination

© Zbigniew Herbert

he would rarely soar
on the wings of a metaphor
and then he fell like Icarus
into the embrace of the Great Mother

Meditation

With sadness I survey our present generation!

Their future seems so empty, dark, and cold,

Mondnacht (Night Of The Moon)

Es war, als hätt' der Himmel
Die Erde still geküsst
Dass sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müsst

My Lute Awake

My lute awake! perform the lastLabour that thou and I shall waste,And end that I have now begun;For when this song is sung and past,My lute be still, for I have done.

My Galley, Charged with Forgetfulness

My galley, chargèd with forgetfulness,
Thorough sharp seas in winter nights doth pass
'Tween rock and rock; and eke mine en'my, alas,
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness;

Mine Own John Poynz

Mine own John Poynz, since ye delight to know
The cause why that homeward I me draw,
And flee the press of courts, whereso they go,
Rather than to live thrall under the awe