Poems begining by O
/ page 111 of 137 /
On A Pen Of Thomas Starr King
© Francis Bret Harte
This is the reed the dead musician dropped,
With tuneful magic in its sheath still hidden;
The prompt allegro of its music stopped,
Its melodies unbidden.
On Eastnor Knoll
© John Masefield
Silent are the woods, and the dim green boughs are
Hushed in the twilight: yonder, in the path through
The apple orchard, is a tired plough-boy
Calling the cows home.
On Miss M--'s's Dancing
© William Shenstone
Of all that gives politeness birth,
Of all that claims to please,
In motion, manners, or in mirth,
The surest source is ease.
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part I
© Madison Julius Cawein
Herein the dearness of her is;
The thirty perfect days of June
Made one, in maiden loveliness
Were not more sweet to clasp and kiss,
With love not more in tune.
On Looking for Models
© Alan Dugan
The trees in time
have something else to do
besides their treeing. What is it.
I'm a starving to death
On A Thief (From The Greek)
© William Cowper
When Aulus, the nocturnal thief, made prize
Of Hermes, swift-wing'd envoy of the skies,
Owl Against Robin
© Sidney Lanier
Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him
Sore, that the song of the robin restrained him
Wrongly of slumber, rudely of rest.
"From the north, from the east, from the south and the west,
Our Hills
© Sidney Lanier
Dear Mother-Earth
Of Titan birth,
Yon hills are your large breasts, and often I
Have climbed to their top-nipples, fain and dry
To drink my mother's-milk so near the sky.
Opposition
© Sidney Lanier
Of fret, of dark, of thorn, of chill,
Complain no more; for these, O heart,
Direct the random of the will
As rhymes direct the rage of art.
On Accidentally Meeting A Lady Now No More
© William Lisle Bowles
When last we parted, thou wert young and fair--
How beautiful let fond remembrance say!
On Violet's Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill
© Sidney Lanier
Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white
As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize,
As if before young Violet's dreaming eyes
Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright
On Huntingdon's "Miranda"
© Sidney Lanier
The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet,
And laid him kneeling at thy feet.
But, -- guerdon rich for favor rare!
The wind hath all thy holy hair
On A Palmetto
© Sidney Lanier
Through all that year-scarred agony of height,
Unblest of bough or bloom, to where expands
His wandy circlet with his bladed bands
Dividing every wind, or loud or light,
Ode To The Johns Hopkins University
© Sidney Lanier
How tall among her sisters, and how fair, --
How grave beyond her youth, yet debonair
As dawn, 'mid wrinkled Matres of old lands
Our youngest Alma Mater modest stands!
Once More I Put My Bonnet On
© Joseph Howe
A finer form, a fairer face
Ne'er bent before the stole,
With more restraint, no spotless lace
Did firmer orbs control,
I shine, the Beauty of the place,
And yet I look all soul.
Occasioned By Some Verses of His Grace the Duke of Buckingham
© Alexander Pope
Muse, 'tis enough: at length thy labour ends,
And thou shalt live, for Buckingham commends.
Old Man
© Edward Thomas
Old Man, or Lads-Love, - in the name theres nothing
To one that knows not Lads-Love, or Old Man,
The hoar green feathery herb, almost a tree,
Growing with rosemary and lavender.
October
© Edward Thomas
The green elm with the one great bough of gold
Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, --
The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white,
Harebell and scabious and tormentil,
