Poems begining by O
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On Reading Shakepeare's Sonnets
© George William Lewis Marshall-Hall
THY verse is like a cool and shady well
Lying a-dream within some moss-walled close
On The Future Of Poetry
© Henry Austin Dobson
Bards of the Future! you that come
With striding march, and roll of drum,
On The Queen's Visit To London, The Night Of The 17th March 1789
© William Cowper
When, long sequestered from his throne,
George took his seat again,
By right of worth, not blood alone
Entitled here to reign;
On Hermocratia (From The Greek)
© William Cowper
Hermocratia named -- save only one --
Twice fifteen births I bore, and buried none;
Of An Orchard
© Katharine Tynan
Good is an Orchard, the Saint saith,
To meditate on life and death,
With a cool well, a hive of bees,
A hermit's grot below the trees.
Once We Went Gaily
© William Henry Ogilvie
Once we went gaily with never a care,
And the bigger the fences, the bolder we were;
On Spring
© George Moses Horton
Hail, thou auspicious vernal dawn!
Ye birds, proclaim the winter's gone,
Ye warbling minstrels sing;
Pour forth your tribute as ye rise,
And thus salute the fragrant skies
The pleasing smiles of Spring.
Otho And Poppaea: A Dramatic Scene
© Arthur Symons
POPPAEA
I will speak with you
If you will speak for kindness; but your brows
Are sick and stormy: why do you frown on me?
I will not speak unless it is for love.
On Marriage
© Richard Crashaw
I would be married, but I'd have no wife ;
I would be married to a single life.
On The Tombstone Of James Christopher Wilson (d. April 11, 1884) In Headley Churchyard, Surrey
© George Meredith
Thou our beloved and light of Earth hast crossed
The sea of darkness to the yonder shore.
There dost thou shine a light transferred, not lost,
Through love to kindle in our souls the more.
On The Tomb Of A Priestess Of Artemis
© Sappho
Voiceless I speak, and from the tomb reply
Unto Æthopia, Leto's child, was I
Vowed by the daughter of Hermocleides,
Who was the son of Saonaïades.
O virgin queen, unto my prayer incline,
Bless him and cast thy blessing on our line.
On The Poetic Muse
© George Moses Horton
Far, far above this world I soar,
And almost nature lose,
Aerial regions to explore,
With this ambitious Muse.
O Lord! in me there lieth naught
© Mary Sidney Herbert
O Lord! in me there lieth naught
But to thy search revealed lies;
Ode I: The Remonstrance Of Shakespeare
© Mark Akenside
If, yet regardful of your native land,
Old Shakespeare's tongue you deign to understand,
On Guido's Aurora
© Mathilde Blind
And on the Clouds a many-tinted band
Of Hours dance round their Leader, grave or gay
As glowing near or in his wake they sway;
While poised above the sun-awakened land
The Morning Star, fair herald of the day,
Hovers, a Cupid, back-blown torch in hand.
On Moore's Last Operatic Farce, Or Farcical Opera
© George Gordon Byron
Good plays are scarce:
So Moore writes farce.
The poet's fame grows brittle--
We knew before
On the Death of Stephen Grey, F.R.S.
© Samuel Johnson
The Electrician
Long hast thou borne the burden of the day,
Olney Hymn 53: My Soul Thirsteth For God
© William Cowper
I thirst, but not as once I did,
The vain delights of earth to share;
Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid
That I should seek my pleasures there.
