Poems begining by O
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¡Oh Cristo!
© Amado Ruiz de Nervo
¡Que importan males o bienes! Para mí todos son bienes.
El rosal no tiene espinas: para mí sólo da rosas.
¿Rosas de pasión? ¡Que importa! Rosas de celeste esencia,
purpúreas como la sangre que vertiste por nosotros,
¡oh, Cristo!
Olney Hymn 45: The Happy Change
© William Cowper
How bless'd Thy creature is, O God,
When with a single eye,
He views the lustre of Thy Word,
The dayspring from on high!
Ode To Sleep
© Pablius Papinius Statius
Lulled are the shuttering waves of the ocean,
Seas in the lap of the land lie at peace.
Only for me in monotonous motion
Day follows day, and there comes no release.
Ode on the Poetical Character
© William Taylor Collins
As once, if not with light regard,
I read aright that gifted bard,
Operation
© William Ernest Henley
You are carried in a basket,
Like a carcase from the shambles,
To the theatre, a cockpit
Where they stretch you on a table.
Old Woman With Protea Flowers, Kahalui Airport by Kathleen Flenniken: American Life in Poetry #134 T
© Ted Kooser
When ancient people gathered around the fire at nightfall, I like to think that they told stories, about where each of them had been that day, and what that person had seen in the forest. Those were among our first stories, and we still venture into the world and return to tell others what happened. It's part of community. Here Kathleen Flenniken of Washington tells us about a woman she saw at an airport.
Old Woman With Protea Flowers, Kahalui Airport
On The Conflagration Of The Po
© Walter Savage Landor
Why is, and whence, the Po in flames? and why
In consternation do its borderers raise
O Who Will Speak From a Womb or a Cloud?
© George Barker
Not less light shall the gold and the green lie
On the cyclonic curl and diamonded eye, than
Ode To Our Young Pro-Consuls Of The Air
© Allen Tate
Once more the country calls
From sleep, as from his doom,
Each citizen to take
His modest stake
Where the sky falls
With a Pacific boom.
O'er Thee, Misfortune, I Have Ceased To Wail
© France Preseren
O'er thee, Misfortune, I have ceased to wail,
I'll utter no reproaches any more.
Thank God, I'm used to griefs thou hast in store
And to the sufferings in life's strong jail.
On Going Home For Christmas
© Edgar Albert Guest
He little knew the sorrow that was in his vacant chair;
He never guessed they'd miss him, or he'd surely have been there;
He couldn't see his mother or the lump that filled her throat,
Or the tears that started falling as she read his hasty note;
And he couldn't see his father, sitting sorrowful and dumb,
Or he never would have written that he thought he couldn't come.
Our Master
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Immortal Love, forever full,
Forever flowing free,
Forever shared, forever whole,
A never-ebbing sea!
On The Luxembourg Gallery
© Washington Allston
There is a Charm no vulgar mind can reach.
No critick thwart, no mighty master teach;
Olney Hymn 19: Contentment
© William Cowper
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
On Lucretia Borgias Hair
© Walter Savage Landor
BORGIA, thou once wert almost too august
And high for adoration; now thou rt dust;
All that remains of thee these plaits unfold,
Calm hair meandering in pellucid gold.
Of Moses And His Wife
© John Bunyan
This Moses was a fair and comely man,
His wife a swarthy Ethiopian;
On A Certain Poets Judgement Between Mr Pope & Mr Philips Don In An Italian Air
© Thomas Parnell
Upon a time, and in a place,
With Pan Apollo playd,
