Poems begining by O
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One
© Mary Oliver
The mosquito is so small
it takes almost nothing to ruin it.
Each leaf, the same.
And the black ant, hurrying.
One World
© Henry Van Dyke
The worlds in which we live at heart are one,
The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done";
And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit,
The world "I love,"--the only living root.
Over the Misty Mountains Cold
© John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.
One White Tree
© John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Tall ships and tall kings
Three times three.
What brought they from the foundered land
Over the flowing sea?
Seven stars and seven stones
And one white tree.
One Ring
© John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,
Ash nazg thrakutulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
O! Where Are You Going?
© John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
O! What are you doing,
And where are you going?
Your ponies need shoeing!
The River is flowing!
O! Tra-la-la-lally
Here down in the valley!
On The Massacre Of The Christians In Bulgaria
© Oscar Wilde
Christ, dost Thou live indeed? or are Thy bones
Still straitened in their rock-hewn sepulchre?
And was Thy Rising only dreamed by her
Whose love of Thee for all her sin atones?
One Cigarette
© Edwin Morgan
No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
On Prayer
© Czeslaw Milosz
You ask me how to pray to someone who is not.
All I know is that prayer constructs a velvet bridge
And walking it we are aloft, as on a springboard,
Above landscapes the color of ripe gold
On Angels
© Czeslaw Milosz
All was taken away from you: white dresses,
wings, even existence.
Yet I believe you,
messengers.
On Digital Extremities
© Gelett Burgess
I'd Rather have Fingers than Toes;
I'd Rather have Ears than a Nose;
And As for my Hair,
I'm Glad it's All There;
I'll be Awfully Sad, when it Goes!
Open the Gates
© Pierre Reverdy
Open the gates—the gates of the Temple,
Swift to Thy sons, who Thy truths have displayed.
Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes
© Thomas Gray
Twas on a lofty vases side,
Where Chinas gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
Of the Poet’s Youth
© Erin Belieu
When the man behind the counter said, “You pay
by the orifice,” what could we do but purchase them all?
One's-Self I Sing
© Walt Whitman
Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.
On English Monsieur
© Benjamin Jonson
Would you believe, when you this monsieur see,
That his whole body should speak French, not he?
