Poems begining by O
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On the Sale by Auction of Keat's Love-Letters
© Oscar Wilde
These are the letters which Endymion wrote
To one he loved in secret and apart,
On Reading William Watson's Sonnet Entitled The Purple East
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Restless the Northern Bear amid his snows
Crouched by the Neva; menacing is France,
On a Lady Throwing Snow-Balls at Her Lover
© Christopher Smart
[From the Latin of Petronious Ascanius.]When, wanton fair, the snowy orb you throw,
I feel a fire before unknown in snow.
E'en coldest snow I find has pow'r to warm
My breast, when flung by Julia's lovely arm.
On My Wife's Birth-Day
© Christopher Smart
'Tis Nancy's birth-day--raise your strains,
Ye nymphs of the Parnassian plains,
And sing with more than usual glee
To Nancy, who was born for me.
Our Lady Peace
© Mark van Doren
How far is it to peace, the piper sighed,
The solitary, sweating as he paused.
Asphalt the noon; the ravens, terrified,
Fled carrion thunder that percussion caused.
Ode to Borrowdale
© Amelia Opie
Hail , Derwent's beauteous pride!
Whose charms rough rocks in threatening grandeur guard,
Whose entrance seems to mortals barred,
But to the Genius of the storm thrown wide.
On Church Communion - Part II.
© John Byrom
If once establish'd the essential part,
The inward Church, the Temple of the Heart,
Or house of God, the substance, and the sum
Of what is pray'd for in - thy kingdom come;
To make an outward correspondence true,
We must recur to Christ's example too.
Oh, My Love
© Nizar Qabbani
Oh, my love
If you were at the level of my madness,
You would cast away your jewelry,
Sell all your bracelets,
And sleep in my eyes.
On The Death Of President Garfield
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I SEE the Nation, as in antique ages,
Crouched with rent robes, and ashes on her head:
Her mournful eyes are deep with dark presages,
Her soul is haunted by a formless dread!
Objector
© William Stafford
I bow and cross my fork and spoon: somewhere
other citizens more fearfully bow
in a place terrorized by their kind of oppressive state.
Our signs both mean, "You hostages over there
will never be slaughtered by my act." Our vows
cross: never to kill and call it fate.
Operation Memory
© David Lehman
We were smoking some of this knockout weed when
Operation Memory was announced. To his separate bed
Each soldier went, counting backwards from a hundred
With a needle in his arm. And there I was, in the middle
Of a recession, in the middle of a strange city, between jobs
And apartments and wives. Nobody told me the gun was loaded.
Ode To Modern Art
© David Lehman
Come on in and stay a while
I'll photograph you emerging from the revolving door
like Frank O'Hara dating the muse of modern art
Talking about the big Pollock show is better
October 12
© David Lehman
My bag was missing at the airport
"Just one bag?" "Yes, but it meant a lot to me"
I had seen the bartender before, but where?
"You didn't tell me you had been to Oxford"
Ode To Pornography
© David Lehman
If you could write down the words
moving through a man's mind as
he masturbates you'd have a quick
bonus bonk read, I used to think.
Our Friendship (January 14)
© David Lehman
We have a name for it
in the South:
asshole buddies.
It means we've known
October 16
© David Lehman
What can you say about the Mets
down three games to none
one run down with six outs to go
Cedeno singles steals second Mora walks
O Pulchritudo
© Sir Henry Newbolt
O Saint whose thousand shrines our feet have trod
And our eyes loved thy lamp's eternal beam,
Dim earthly radiance of the Unknown God,
Hope of the darkness, light of them that dream,
Far off, far off and faint, O glimmer on
Till we thy pilgrims from the road are gone.
O Star Of France
© Walt Whitman
The brightness of thy hope and strength and fame,
Like some proud ship that led the fleet so long,
Beseems to-day a wreck, driven by the gale-a mastless hulk;
And 'mid its teeming, madden'd, half-drown'd crowds,
Nor helm nor helmsman.
