Poems begining by O
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Olney Hymn 23: Pleading For And With Youth
© William Cowper
Sin has undone our wretched race;
But Jesus has restored,
And brought the sinner face to face
With his forgiving Lord.
Occasional Address
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written for the benefit of a distressed Player, detained
at Brighthelmstone for Debt, November 1792.
WHEN in a thousand swarms, the summer o'er,
The birds of passage quit our English shore,
By various routs the feather'd myriad moves;
The Becca-Fica seeks Italian groves,
Ode To The
© George Canning
How blest, how firm the Statesman stands,
(Him no low intrigue shall move),
Circled by faithful kindred bands,
And propp'd by fond fraternal love.
"Our Hope."
© James Brunton Stephens
A WIND-BORNE shred of that mysterious scroll
Wherein the secrets of the deep are writ:
Of Taking things Easy
© Arthur Maquarie
TELL me what boots to battle, when the end
Is foreseen failure? What, by heaven, I ask
Occasionally
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Now and then there's a couple whose conjugal life
Is happy as happy can be;
Ode - On the Death of a Young Lady
© John Logan
The peace of Heaven attend thy shade,
My early friend, my favourite maid!
When life was new, companions gay,
We hail'd the morning of our day.
Ode XIII: To The Author Of Memoirs Of The House of Brandenburgh
© Mark Akenside
I.
The men renown'd as chiefs of human race,
Ode To The Confederate Dead
© Allen Tate
You hear the shout, the crazy hemlocks point
With troubled fingers to the silence which
Smothers you, a mummy, in time.
Our Humming-Bird
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AH, well I know the reason why
They called her by that graceful name:
She seems a creature born with wings,
O'er which a rainbow spirit flings
Old Fashioned Roses
© James Whitcomb Riley
They ain't no style about 'em,
And they're sorto' pale and faded,
On The World
© Francis Quarles
The world's an Inn; and I her guest.
I eat; I drink; I take my rest.
My hostess, nature, does deny me
Nothing, wherewith she can supply me;
Where, having stayed a while, I pay
Her lavish bills, and go my way.
On Anne Allen
© Edward Fitzgerald
The wind blew keenly from the Western sea,
And drove the dead leaves slanting from the tree--
Vanity of vanities, the Preacher saith--
Heaping them up before her Father's door
When I saw her whom I shall see no more--
We cannot bribe thee, Death.
Of The Nature Of Things: Book IV - Part 04 - Some Vital Functions
© Lucretius
In these affairs
We crave that thou wilt passionately flee
O Ship of State
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
