Poems begining by O
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On The Death Of A Fair Infant Dying Of A Cough
© John Milton
IO fairest flower no sooner blown but blasted,
Soft silken Primrose fading timelesslie,
Summers chief honour if thou hadst outlasted
Bleak winters force that made thy blossome drie;
On The New Forcers Of Conscience Under The Long Parliament
© John Milton
Because you have thrown of your Prelate Lord,
And with stiff Vowes renounc'd his Liturgie
To seise the widdow'd whore Pluralitie
From them whose sin ye envi'd, not abhor'd,
On The Morning Of Christs Nativity
© John Milton
IThis is the Month, and this the happy morn
Wherin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King,
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring;
On His Deceased Wife
© John Milton
METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,
Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint.
On Shakespear
© John Milton
What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones,
The labour of an age in piled Stones,
Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid
Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?
On His Blindness
© John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
One sung of thee who left the tale untold
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
One sung of thee who left the tale untold,
Like the false dawns which perish in the bursting;
Like empty cups of wrought and daedal gold,
Which mock the lips with air, when they are thirsting.
On A Dead Violet
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The odor from the flower is gone
Which like thy kisses breathed on me;
The color from the flower is flown
Which glowed of thee and only thee!
One Word Is Too Often Profaned
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
On Death
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
The pale, the cold, and the moony smile
Which the meteor beam of a starless night
Sheds on a lonely and sea-girt isle,
Ere the dawning of morn's undoubted light,
Is the flame of life so fickle and wan
That flits round our steps till their strength is gone.
Ode To The West Wind
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Ozymandias
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
One Almost Might
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Wouldn't you say,
Wouldn't you say: one day,
With a little more time or a little more patience, one might
Disentangle for separate, deliberate, slow delight
On Being Born The Same Exact Day Of The Same Exact Year As Boy George
© Denise Duhamel
We must have clamored for the same mother, hurried for
the same womb.
I know it now as I read that my birthday is his.
Since the first time I saw his picture, I sensed something
and with a fierce bonding and animosity
began following his career.
On Being Challenged to Write an Epigram in the Manner of Herrick
© Sir Walter Raleigh
To Griggs, that learned man, in many a bygone session,
His kids were his delight, and physics his profession;
Now Griggs, grown old and glum, and less intent on knowledge,
Physics himself at home, and sends his kids to college.
Once a man clambering to the housetops
© Stephen Crane
Once a man clambering to the housetops
Appealed to the heavens.
With strong voice he called to the deaf spheres;
A warrior's shout he raised to the suns.
On the horizon the peaks assembled
© Stephen Crane
On the horizon the peaks assembled;
And as I looked,
The march of the mountains began.
As they marched, they sang,
"Aye! We come! We come!"
Once, I knew a fine song
© Stephen Crane
Once, I knew a fine song,
-- It is true, believe me --
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
On the desert
© Stephen Crane
On the desert
A silence from the moon's deepest valley.
Fire rays fall athwart the robes
Of hooded men, squat and dumb.
Once there was a man
© Stephen Crane
Once there was a man --
Oh, so wise!
In all drink
He detected the bitter,
