Poems begining by O
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Ode To Autumn
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Thou sombre lady of down-bended head,
And weary lashes drooping to the cheek,
On The Return Of A Festival
© George Dyer
While War through kindred nations roams,
With fiery eye and blood-stain'd spear,
And Pity, on the warrior's tombs,
Hangs the pale wreath, and drops a tear,
While thousands bleed,while thousands die,
Let Britons heave the generous sigh.
On Seeing the Wind at Hope Mansell
© Geoffrey Hill
Whether or not shadows are of the substance
such is the expectation I can
On the Poet’s Birth
© Robert Graves
A page, a huntsman and a priest of God
Her lovers, met in jealous contrariety
Equally claiming the sole parenthood
Of him the perfect crown of their variety.
Then, whom to admit, herself she could not tell:
That always was her fate, she loved too well.
Ovid in the Third Reich
© Geoffrey Hill
I love my work and my children. God
Is distant, difficult. Things happen.
Too near the ancient troughs of blood
Innocence is no earthly weapon.
O Hymen! O Hymenee!
© Walt Whitman
O HYMEN! O hymenee!
Why do you tantalize me thus?
O why sting me for a swift moment only?
Why can you not continue? O why do you now cease?
Is it because, if you continued beyond the swift moment, you would
soon certainly kill me?
On the Lord General Fairfax at the Siege of Colchester
© Patrick Kavanagh
Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings
Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise,
Our Pilots
© William Henry Ogilvie
You that run the reddened ditch among the drifted leaves
May set the pace to conquerors and guide the sons of kings!
Oiling
© Norman Rowland Gale
Excuse me, Sweetheart, if I smear,
With wisdom learnt from ancient teachers,
O Crudelis Amor!
© Robert Laurence Binyon
It was Spring, the sweet Spring, when first I met with Love.
Suddenly I raised my eyes; and he stood there.
He was so beautiful, I could not look elsewhere.
For joy I could not speak; I gazed but could not move;
Ode Read At The One Hundreth Anniversary Of The Fight At Concord Bridge
© James Russell Lowell
I
Who cometh over the hills,
On My Mother's Birthday
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Clad in all their brightest green,
This day verdant fields are seen;
The tuneful birds begin their lay,
To celebrate thy natal day.
On The Birth Of A Friend's Child
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Mark the day white, on which the Fates have smiled:
Eugenio and Egeria have a child.
On Giving and Taking
© Khalil Gibran
Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one
day the mother of Jesus came to him and said: "Friend, my son's
garment is torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the
temple. Wouldst thou not give me a needle?"
Ode To Neptune
© Phillis Wheatley
While raging tempests shake the shore,
While Aeolus' thunders round us roar,
And sweep impetuous o'er the plain
Be still, O tyrant of the main;
Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray,
While my Susanna skims the wat'ry way.
Of Life And Death
© Benjamin Jonson
The ports of death are sins; of life, good deeds:
Through which our merit leads us to our meeds.
On a Girdle
© Edmund Waller
That which her slender waist confind,
Shall now my joyful temples bind;
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.
