Poems begining by O
/ page 35 of 137 /
On The Uses Of Adversity
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Nothing there is that mortal man may utterly despise;
What in our wealth we treasured, in our poverty we prize.
Only One Man Killed Today
© Anonymous
There are tears and wails in the old brown house
On the hillside steep today,
On A Bank As I Sate A Fishing: A Description Of The Spring
© Sir Henry Wotton
And now all Nature seem'd in love,
The lusty sap began to move;
"O Lady, Leave Thy Silken Thread"
© Thomas Hood
O Lady, leave thy silken thread
And flowery tapestrie:
There's living roses on the bush,
And blossoms on the tree;
On Simony
© Joseph Hall
Saw'st thou ever Siquis patcht on Pauls Church door
To seek some vacant vicarage before?
On The Fly-Leaf Of Pound's Cantos
© Basil Bunting
There are the Alps. What is there to say about them?
They don't make sense. Fatal glaciers, crags cranks climb,
jumbled boulder and weed, pasture and boulder, scree,
et l'on entend, maybe, le refrain joyeux et leger.
Who knows what the ice will have scraped on the rock it is smoothing?
On Seeing A Train Start For The Seaside
© Norman Rowland Gale
O might I leave this grassy place
For spreading foam about my feet!
The splendid spray upon my face,
The flying brine itself were sweet
If I might hear on Cromer beach
The freedom of Old Neptune's speech!
One of the Has-beens
© Anonymous
Im one of the has-beens, a shearer I mean;
I once was a ringer and used to shear clean;
I could make the wool roll off like the soil from the plough,
But you may not believe me, because I cant do it now.
Oh, Tell Me, Ye Breezes
© Henry Kendall
Tell me, ye breezes, yeve traversed the wild,
And passed oer the desolate spot,
Where reposeth in silence sweet Natures own child,
Where slumbers one nearly forgot?
Ode to Duty
© William Wordsworth
. Stern Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
On His Own Face In A Glass
© Ezra Pound
O strange face there in the glass!
O ribald company, O saintly host,
On Sarah Stonhouse, Second Wife Of The Rev. Sir James Stonhouse, Bart.
© Hannah More
Oh! if thy living excellence could teach,
Death has a loftier emphasis of speech:
Let death thy strongest lesson then impart,
And write, prepare to die on every heart.
On A Gentlewoman That Had Had The Small Poxe
© William Strode
A Beauty smoother than the Ivory playne
Late by the Poxe injuriously was slayne:
Twas not the Poxe: Love shott a thousand darts,
And made those pitts for graves to bury hearts:
But since that Beauty hath regaynde her light,
Those hearts are double slayne, it shines so bright.
On A Hollow Friendship
© Frances Anne Kemble
A bitter cheat!and here at length it ends
And thou and I, who were to one another
On Refusal Of Aid Between Nations
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Not that the earth is changing, O my God!
Nor that the seasons totter in their walk,
