Poems begining by O
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Ode to Stephen Dowling Bots, Dec'd.
© Pierre de Ronsard
And did young Stephen sicken,
And did young Stephen die?
And did the sad hearts thicken,
And did the mourners cry?
Of Love To God
© John Bunyan
When I do this begin to apprehend,
My heart, my soul, and mind, begins to bend
On Liberty and Slavery
© George Moses Horton
Alas! and am I born for this,
To wear this slavish chain?
Deprived of all created bliss,
Through hardship, toil and pain!
On the Departure of Sir Walter Scott from Abbotsford, for Naples
© André Breton
A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,
On Sir Thomas Savill Dying Of The Small Pox
© William Strode
Take, greedy death, a body here entomd
That by a thousand stroakes was made one wound,
O Jours De Mon Printemps
© André Marie de Chénier
O jours de mon printemps, jours couronnés de rose,
A votre fuite en vain un long regret s'oppose,
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 02 - Nature And Composition Of The Mind
© Lucretius
First, then, I say, the mind which oft we call
The intellect, wherein is seated life's
Orpheus Alone
© Mark Strand
It was an adventure much could be made of: a walk
On the shores of the darkest known river,
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic
© André Breton
Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee;
Oppression
© Langston Hughes
Now dreams
Are not available
To the dreamers,
Nor songs
To the singers.
One Woman's History
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
"The maiden free, the maiden wed.
Can never, never be the same,
A new life springs from out the dead.
And with the speaking of a name-
A breath upon the marriage bed,
She finds herself a something new.
On Virtue
© Phillis Wheatley
O thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Obsession
© Paul Eluard
After years of wisdom
During which the world was transparent as a needle
Was it cooing about something else?
After having vied with returned favours squandered treasure
Old Song
© Edward Fitzgerald
TIS a dull sight
To see the year dying,
When winter winds
Set the yellow wood sighing:
Sighing, O sighing!
Ode to Duty
© André Breton
Jam non consilio bonus, sed more eo perductus, ut non tantum recte facere possim, sed nisi recte facere non possim"
"I am no longer good through deliberate intent, but by long habit have reached a point where I am not only able to do right, but am unable to do anything but what is right."
(Seneca, Letters 120.10)
