Poems begining by O
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On A Political Prisoner
© William Butler Yeats
SHE that but little patience knew,
From childhood on, had now so much
On The Companionship With Nature
© Archibald Lampman
Let us be much with Nature; not as they
That labour without seeing, that employ
On The Water
© Rene Francois Armand Prudhomme
The sound of bank and water is all I hear,
The sad resignation of a weeping spring
Or a rock that hourly sheds a tear,
And the birch leaves' vague quivering.
Optimistic Man
© Nazim Hikmet
as a child he never plucked the wings off flies
he didn't tie tin cans to cats' tails
or lock beetles in matchboxes
or stomp anthills
On Living
© Nazim Hikmet
ILiving is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example--
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
Once We Played
© Mathilde Blind
ONCE we played at love together--
Played it smartly, if you please;
Lightly, as a windblown feather,
Did we stake a heart apiece.
On Catullus
© Walter Savage Landor
Tell me not what too well I know
About the bard of Sirmio.
Yes, in Thalias son
Such stains there areas when a Grace
Sprinkles anothers laughing face
With nectar, and runs on.
Of Clementina
© Walter Savage Landor
In Clementinas artless mien
Lucilla asks me what I see,
And are the roses of sixteen
Enough for me?
One Lovely Name
© Walter Savage Landor
One lovely name adorns my song,
And, dwelling in the heart,
Forever falters at the tongue,
And trembles to depart.
On An Eclipse Of The Moon
© Walter Savage Landor
Struggling, and faint, and fainter didst thou wane,
O Moon! and round thee all thy starry train
Came forth to help thee, with half-open eyes,
And trembled every one with still surprise,
That the black Spectre should have dared assail
Their beauteous queen and seize her sacred veil
On the Dark, Still, Dry Warm Weather
© Gilbert White
Th'imprison'd winds slumber within their caves
Fast bound: the fickle vane, emblem of change,
On Burns
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
In whomsoe'er, since Poesy began,
A Poet most of all men we may scan,
Burns of all poets is the most a Man.
On The Third Day
© Stephen Spender
On the first summer day I lay in the valley.
Above rocks the sky sealed my eyes with a leaf
On His Seventy-fifth Birthday
© Walter Savage Landor
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
I warmed both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.
On His Eightieth Birthday
© Walter Savage Landor
To my ninth decade I have tottered on,
And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady;
She, who once led me where she would, is gone,
So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.
Oread
© Hilda Doolittle
Whirl up, sea
Whirl your pointed pines.
Splash your great pines
On our rocks.
Hurl your green over us
Cover us with your pools of fir.
Ode to Melancholy
© Thomas Hood
Come, let us set our careful breasts,
Like Philomel, against the thorn,
To aggravate the inward grief,
That makes her accents so forlorn;
O, Have You Blessed, Behind The Stars
© William Ernest Henley
O, have you blessed, behind the stars,
The blue sheen of the skies,
When June the roses round her calls?
Then do you know the light that falls
From her beloved eyes.
