Poems begining by N

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the yellow legged plovers live at the university and stare down
pale students who dare to walk near themwe like themthey are the smartest things around with their brown caps and stiffish know-it-all walk
god, don't they look like the newly arrived so proud to be here, and busy, the plovers should have keys and a whistle on a lanyard each
like brisk brutish phys ed teachers they probably once were

Naming The Stars

© Joyce Sutphen

This present tragedy will eventually
turn into myth, and in the mist
of that later telling the bell tolling
now will be a symbol, or, at least,
a sign of something long since lost.

Night

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

SWIFTLY walk o'er the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave,--
Where, all the long and lone daylight,

Night: San Francisco

© Deborah Ager

Rain drenches the patio stones.
All night was spent waiting
for an earthquake, and instead

Night In Iowa

© Deborah Ager

Nimbus clouds erasing stars above Lamoni.
Jaundiced lights. Silos. Loose dogs. Cows
whose stench infuses the handful of homes,
whose sad voices storm the plains with longing.

Night Piece

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

Climb, claim your shelf-room, far
Packed from inquisitive moon
And cold contagious stars.

Never

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

Suddenly, desperately
I thought, "No, never
In millions of minutes
Can I for one second

Not Love Perhaps

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

This is not Love, perhaps,
Love that lays down its life,
that many waters cannot quench,
nor the floods drown,
But something written in lighter ink,
said in a lower tone, something, perhaps, especially our own.

Nursery Rhyme For A Twenty-First Birthday

© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond

You cannot see the walls that divide your hand
From his or hers or mine when you think you touch it.You cannot see the walls because they are glass,
And glass is nothing until you try to pass it.Beat on it if you like, but not too hard,
For glass will break you even while you break it.Shout, and the sound will be broken and driven backwards,

Now What Is Love

© Sir Walter Raleigh

Now what is Love, I pray thee, tell?
It is that fountain and that well
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, the sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell;
And this is Love, as I hear tell.

Nature that Washed Her Hands in Milk

© Sir Walter Raleigh

Nature, that washed her hands in milk,
And had forgot to dry them,
Instead of earth took snow and silk,
At love's request to try them,
If she a mistress could compose
To please love's fancy out of those.

Nature Study

© Craig Raine

All the lizards are asleep--
perched pagodas with tiny triangular tiles,
each milky lid a steamed-up window.
Inside, the heart repeats itself like a sleepy gong,
summoning nothing to nothing.

No Worst, There Is None. Pitched Past Pitch Of Grief

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall
Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap
May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our small
Durance deal with that steep or deep. Here! creep,
Wretch, under a comfort serves in a whirlwind: all
Life death does end and each day dies with sleep.

Nationality In Drinks

My heart sank with our Claret-flask,
Just now, beneath the heavy sedges
That serve this Pond's black face for mask
And still at yonder broken edges
O' the hole, where up the bubbles glisten,
After my heart I look and listen.

Never The Time And The Place

Never the time and the place
And the loved one all together!
This path--how soft to pace!
This May -- what magic weather!

Now!

Out of your whole life give but a moment!
All of your life that has gone before,
All to come after it, -- so you ignore,
So you make perfect the present, condense,