Poems begining by O
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Our Mountain Cemetery
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Lonely and silent and calm it lies
Neath rosy dawn or midnight skies;
So densely peopled, yet so still,
The murmuring voice of mountain rill,
The plaint the wind mid branches wakes,
Alone the solemn silence breaks.
Oatmeal
© Galway Kinnell
I eat oatmeal for breakfast.
I make it on the hot plate and put skimmed milk on it.
I eat it alone.
I am aware it is not good to eat oatmeal alone.
Ode To Walt Whitman
© Stephen Vincent Benet
"Let me taste all, my flesh and my fat are sweet,
My body hardy as lilac, the strong flower.
I have tasted the calamus; I can taste the nightbane."
One Year agojots what?
© Emily Dickinson
One Year agojots what?
Godspell the word! Ican't
Was't Grace? Not that
Was't Glory? Thatwill do
Spell slowerGlory
Optimist
© Aleister Crowley
Kill off mankind,
And give the Earth a chance!
Nature might find
In her inheritance
The seedlings of a race
Less infinitely base.
On - On - Poet
© Aleister Crowley
I to the open road,
You to the hunchbacked street -
Which of us two
Shall the earlier rue
That day we chanced to meet?
Of The Nature Of Things: Book V - Part 07 - Beginnings Of Civilization
© Lucretius
Afterwards,
When huts they had procured and pelts and fire,
And when the woman, joined unto the man,
Withdrew with him into one dwelling place,
Oh, Think Not I Am Faithful To A Vow
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I save to love's self alone.
Overture
© Walter Savage Landor
From Thrasymedes and Eunoë
WHO will away to Athens with me? who
Loves choral songs and maidens crownd with flowers,
On Giving
© Robert Graves
Those who dare give nothing
Are left with less than nothing;
Dear heart, you give me everything,
Which leaves you more than everything-
Though those who dare give nothing
Might judge it left you less than nothing.
Open Windows
© Sara Teasdale
OUT of the window a sea of green trees
Lift their soft boughs like the arms of a dancer,
They beckon and call me, "Come out in the sun!"
But I cannot answer.
On a very profane Compliment in a noble and devout Poem.
© Mather Byles
Ah! Cease, vain Muse, forbear thy hardy Lays,
Nor urge the Thunder on thy guilty Bays,
Old Ironsides
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
On The Castle Of Dublin, Anno 1715
© Thomas Parnell
This House and Inhabitants both well agree,
And resemble each other as near can be;
One half is decay'd, and in want of a Prop,
The other new built, but not finish'd a-top.
"O sorrowful thought! But one more flying year"
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O sorrowful thought! But one more flying year,
And our ways part, perhaps no more to meet:
And must we, then, less dear
Grow to each other, as the swift days fleet?
Old
© Anne Sexton
I'm afraid of needles.
I'm tired of rubber sheets and tubes.
I'm tired of faces that I don't know
and now I think that death is starting.
Our Sunday morning when dawn-priests were applying
© John Berryman
'Death is the mother of beauty.' Awry no leaf
Shivering with delight, we die to be well..
Careless with sleepy love, so long unloving.
What if our convalescence must be bried
As we are, the matin meet the passing bell?..
About our pines our sister, wind, is moving.
Oh
© Anne Sexton
It is snowing and death bugs me
as stubborn as insomnia.
The fierce bubbles of chalk,
the little white lesions
On The Gallows
© Jonathan Swift
There is a gate, we know full well,
That stands 'twixt Heaven, and Earth, and Hell,
Where many for a passage venture,
Yet very few are fond to enter:
