Poems begining by O

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On The Alienation Of A Friend

© Confucius

Gently and soft the east wind blows,
  And then there falls the pelting rain.
  When anxious fears pressed round you close,
  Then linked together were we twain.
  Now happy, and your mind at rest,
  You turn and cast me from your breast.

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Old Tom Again

© William Butler Yeats

Things out of perfection sail,
And all their swelling canvas wear,
Nor shall the self-begotten fail
Though fantastic men suppose
Building-yard and stormy shore,
Winding-sheet and swaddling - clothes.

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On Receiving A Copy Of Mr. Austin's 'Old World Idylls'

© James Russell Lowell

At length arrived, your book I take
To read in for the author's sake;
Too gray for new sensations grown,
Can charm to Art or Nature known
This torpor from my senses shake?

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On Delia (Bid Adieu, My Sad Heart)

© William Cowper

Bid adieu, my sad heart, bid adieu to thy peace!
Thy pleasure is past, and thy sorrows increase;
See the shadows of evening how far they extend,
And a long night is coming, that never may end;
For the sun is now set that enlivened the scene,
And an age must be past ere it rises again.

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Owl

© Sylvia Plath

Clocks belled twelve. Main street showed otherwise
Than its suburb of woods : nimbus--
Lit, but unpeopled, held its windows
Of wedding pastries,

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Orlando Furioso Canto 2

© Ludovico Ariosto

ARGUMENT


A hermit parts, by means of hollow sprite,

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O Night Of Nights! O Night

© Jean Ingelow

"Let us now go even unto Bethlehem."

O Night of nights! O night

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On Flaxman's Penelope

© William Cowper

The suitors sinned, but with a fair excuse,
Whom all this elegance might well seduce;
Nor can our censure on the husband fall,
Who, for a wife so lovely, slew them all.

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On A Cannon

© Jonathan Swift

Begotten, and born, and dying with noise,
The terror of women, and pleasure of boys,
Like the fiction of poets concerning the wind,
I'm chiefly unruly when strongest confined.

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Ortus

© Ezra Pound

How have I laboured?

How have I not laboured

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On The Decline Of Faith

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

AS in some half-burned forest, one by one,
We catch far echoes on the doleful breeze,
Born of the downfall of its ruined trees;
While even thro' those which stand, slow shudderings run,

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Out of Superstition

© Boris Pasternak

A box of glazed sour fruit compact,
My narrow room.
And oh the grime of lodging rooms
This side the tomb!

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On A Dream

© John Keats

As Hermes once took to his feathers light

 When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept,

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Out of Time

© Piet Hein

My old clock used to tell the time
and subdivide diurnity;
but now its lost both hands and chime
and only tells eternity.

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O You Who've gone on Pilgrimage

© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi

O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
  where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
  Oh come now, come, oh come!

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Out Of Babylon

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

THEIR looks for me are bitter,
  And bitter is their word–
I may not glance behind unseen,
  I may not sigh unheard!

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Once

© Trumbull Stickney

THAT day her eyes were deep as night.
She had the motion of the rose,
The bird that veers across the light,
The waterfall that leaps and throws
Its irised spindrift to the sun.  
She seemed a wind of music passing on.

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O'Hussey's Ode To The Maguire

© James Clarence Mangan

WHERE is my chief, my master, this bleak night, mavrone?
  O cold, cold, miserably cold is this bleak night for Hugh!
  Its showery, arrowy, speary sleet pierceth one thro' and thro' -
Pierceth one to the very bone.

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Occasion'd By Seeing Some Verses Written By Mrs. Constantia Grierson, Upon The Death Of Her Son.

© Mary Barber

Soften, kind Heav'n, her seeming rigid Fate,
With frequent Visions of his blissful State:
Oft let the Guardian Angel of her Son
Tell her in faithful Dreams, His Task is done;
Shew, how he kindly led her lovely Boy
To Realms of Peace, and never--fading Joy.