Poems begining by O
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Ode to W. H. Channing
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Though loath to grieve
The evil time's sole patriot,
I cannot leave
My honied thought
For the priest's cant,
Or statesman's rant.
Of Politics and Art
© Norman Dubie
Today I listened to a woman say
That Melville might
Be taught in the next decade. Another woman asked, "And why not?"
The first responded, "Because there are
No women in his one novel."
Of Hope and Dinosaurs
© Syl Cheney-Coker
Always, we searched in the stone river,
while the slaughterhouse was waiting for us,
On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford, for Naples
© William Wordsworth
A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,Nor of the setting sun's pathetic lightEngendered, hangs o'er Eildon's triple height:Spirits of Power, assembled there, complainFor kindred Power departing from their sight;While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe strain,Saddens his voice again, and yet again
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
© William Wordsworth
The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up")
Out of the Dust
© Woodrow Constance
Out of the dust of all the past I came: My body is compact of memoriesOf other lives in other forms than this, And I am kin to birds and beasts and trees.
On the Dark, Still, Dry Warm Weather, Occasionally Happening in the Winter Months
© Gilbert White
To Thomas Pennant, Esquire. ... equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis Ingenium. Virg., Georg.
Oh Mother of a Mighty Race
© William Cullen Bryant
OH mother of a mighty race
Yet lovely in thy youthful grace!
The elder dames thy haughty peers
Admire and hate thy blooming years.
With words of shame 5
And taunts of scorn they join thy name.
Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec'd.
© Mark Twain
And did young Stephen sicken, And did young Stephen die?And did the sad hearts thicken, And did the mourners cry?
On a Dead Girl
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
Lovely she was, if so be Night That slumbers in the sombre shrine.There laid by sculptor Michael's might Unmoving in her marble line.
On Stephen Duck, the Thresher and Favourite Poet
© Jonathan Swift
The Thresher Duck, could o'er the Q {-}{-}{-}{-}{-}{-} prevail,The Proverb says; No Fence against a Flayl
Of the Death of Sir T. W. The Elder
© Henry Howard
Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;Such profit he by envy could obtain.
Of F. W. H. M.: 1. To One that Smokes
© James Kenneth Stephen
Spare us the hint of slightest desecration, Spotless preserve us an untainted shrine;Not for thy sake, oh goddess of creation, Not for thy sake, oh woman, but for mine.
Our Butcher
© Starnino Carmine
I could bone up, be the right man for that one-man job,hang by its hocks a rabbit shucked from the jacketof its black-bristled fur and still talking in twitches
On the Obsolescence of Caphone
© Starnino Carmine
Last heard—with a lovely hiss on the "ph"—August 1982 during an afternoon game of scopaturned nasty. And now, missing alongside it,are hundreds of slogans, shibboleths, small
O Mistres Mine Where are you Roming?
© William Shakespeare
O Mistres mine where are you roming?O stay and heare, your true loues coming, That can sing both high and low
On Mixed Pupils
© Robertson James
I wonder, to look on some commonplace Crass carcase in calm cow-hide,What on earth, if one could see through the case, The works are doing inside!
O Earth, Sufficing All our Needs
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
O earth, sufficing all our needs, O youWith room for body and for spirit too, How patient while your children vex their soulsDevising alien heavens beyond your blue!
