Poems begining by O
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On Hearing
© William Lisle Bowles
O stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die
In the long vaultings of this ancient fane!
Stay, for I may not hear on earth again
Those pious airs--that glorious harmony;
Our House
© Edgar Albert Guest
WE play at our house and have all sorts of fun,
An' there's always a game when supper is done;
An' at our house there's marks on the walls an' the stairs,
An' some terrible scratches on some of the chairs;
An' ma says that our house is surely a fright,
But pa and I say that our house is all right.
On a Beautiful Landscape
© William Lisle Bowles
Here is no tint of mortal change--the day
Beneath whose light the dog and peasant-boy
Gambol with look, and almost bark, of joy--
Still seems, though centuries have passed, to stay.
Then gaze again, that shadowed scenes may teach
Lessons of peace and love, beyond all speech.
Oh! Weep For Those
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Oh! Weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream,
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell--
Mourn--where their God that dwelt-the Godless dwell!
On Salathiel Pavy
© Benjamin Jonson
A child of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel
Epitaphs: ii WEEP with me, all you that read
This little story;
And know, for whom a tear you shed
Ode to Himself upon the Censure of his New Inn
© Benjamin Jonson
Come, leave the loathed stage,
And the more loathsome age;
Where pride and impudence, in faction knit,
Usurp the chair of wit!
On A Grave In The Forest
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Hush, gentle stranger. Here lies one asleep
In the tall grass whom we must not awaken.
For see, the wildest winds hush here and keep
Silence for her and not a leaf is shaken,
On Gold
© Jonathan Swift
All-ruling tyrant of the earth,
To vilest slaves I owe my birth,
How is the greatest monarch blest,
When in my gaudy livery drest!
On My Birthday, July 21
© Matthew Prior
I, MY dear, was born to-day--
So all my jolly comrades say:
They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,
And ask to celebrate my birth:
On The Report Of A Monument To Be Erected In Westminster Abbey, To The Memory Of A Late Author (Chur
© James Beattie
Bufo, begone! with thee may Faction's fire,
That hatch'd thy salamander-fame, expire.
Fame, dirty idol of the brainless crowd,
What half-made moon-calf can mistake for good!
Ode to Winter
© Thomas Campbell
When first the fiery-mantled sun
His heavenly race begun to run;
Round the earth and ocean blue,
His children four the Seasons flew.
Ode to the Memory of Burns
© Thomas Campbell
Soul of the Poet ! wheresoe'er,
Reclaimed from earth, thy genius plume
Her wings of immortality ;
Suspend thy harp in happier sphere,
And with thine influence illume
The gladness of our jubilee.
Olney Hymn 60: Abuse Of The Gospel
© William Cowper
Too many, Lord, abuse Thy grace
In this licentious day,
And while they boast they see Thy face,
They turn their own away.
On The Dedication Of Dorothy Hall
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Not to the midnight of the gloomy past,
Do we revert to-day; we look upon
The golden present and the future vast
Whose vistas show us visions of the dawn.
Our Orders
© Julia Ward Howe
WEAVE no more silks, ye Lyons looms,
To deck our girls for gay delights!
The crimson flower of battle blooms,
And solemn marches fill the night.
October
© William Cullen Bryant
Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
October 21, 1905
© George Meredith
The hundred years have passed, and he
Whose name appeased a nation's fears,
