Poems begining by O
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Ode to Melancholy
© Mary Darby Robinson
SORC'RESS of the Cave profound!
Hence, with thy pale, and meagre train,
Nor dare my roseate bow'r profane,
Where light-heel'd mirth despotic reigns,
Slightly bound in feath'ry chains,
And scatt'ring blisses round.
Our Two Opinions
© Eugene Field
Us two wuz boys when we fell out,--
Nigh to the age uv my youngest now;
Don't rec'lect what't wuz about,
Some small deeff'rence, I'll allow.
Our Lady of the Mine
© Eugene Field
The Blue Horizon wuz a mine us fellers all thought well uv,
And there befell the episode I now perpose to tell uv;
'T wuz in the year uv sixty-nine,--somewhere along in summer,--
There hove in sight one afternoon a new and curious comer;
Our biggest fish
© Eugene Field
When in the halcyon days of old, I was a little tyke,
I used to fish in pickerel ponds for minnows and the like;
And oh, the bitter sadness with which my soul was fraught
When I rambled home at nightfall with the puny string I'd caught!
And, oh, the indignation and the valor I'd display
When I claimed that all the biggest fish I'd caught had got away!
Orkney Lullaby
© Eugene Field
A moonbeam floateth from the skies,
Whispering, "Heigho, my dearie!
I would spin a web before your eyes,--
A beautiful web of silver light,
On The Reverend Mr. Love, In The Cathedral At Bristol
© Hannah More
O let him in some pause of anguish say,
What zeal inflam'd, what faith enlarg'd his breast;
How glad th' unfetter'd spirit wing'd its way
From earth to heav'n, from blessing to be blest!
On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go.'
© Thom Gunn
The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows
Some hidden purpose, and the gush of birds
On A Ferry Boat
© Richard Francis Burton
THE RIVER widens to a pathless sea
Beneath the rain and mist and sullen skies.
On Two Ministers of State
© Hilaire Belloc
Lump says that Caliban's of gutter breed,
And Caliban says Lump's a fool indeed,
And Caliban and Lump and I are all agreed.
On the Ladies of Pixton
© Hilaire Belloc
Three Graces; and the mother were a Grace,
But for profounder meaning in her face.
On the Little God
© Hilaire Belloc
Of all the gods that gave me all their glories
To-day there deigns to walk with me but one.
I lead him by the hand and tell him stories.
It is the Queen of Cyprus' little son.
On Vital Statistics
© Hilaire Belloc
Ill fares the land to hast'ning ills a prey (1)
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.'
But how much more unfortunate are those
Where wealth declines and population grows!
On the still surviving Marks of our Saviour's
© Richard Crashaw
Whatever story of their cruelty,
Or nail, or thorn, or spear have writ in Thee,
October
© Hilaire Belloc
Mine host the month, at thy good hostelry,
Tired limbs I'll stretch and steaming beast I'll tether;
Pile on great logs with Gascon hand and free,
And pour the Gascon stuff that laughs at weather;
Swell your tough lungs, north wind, no whit care we,
Singing old songs and drinking wine together.
Of the Mean and Sure Estate
© Sir Thomas Wyatt
My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,
Overnight At The Riverside Tower
© Du Fu
Evening colors linger on mountain paths.
Out beyond this study perched over River Gate,
At the cliff's edge, frail clouds stay
All night. Among waves, a lone, shuddering
