Poems begining by O
/ page 99 of 137 /"Once I thought my love was worth the name"
© Lesbia Harford
Once I thought my love was worth the name
If tears came.
When the wound is mortal, now I know,
Few tears flow.
Our Club
© Carolyn Wells
We're going to have the mostest fun!
It's going to be a club;
And no one can belong to it
But Dot and me and Bub.
On the Wallaby
© Henry Lawson
Now the tent poles are rotting, the camp fires are dead,
And the possums may gambol in trees overhead;
I am humping my bluey far out on the land,
And the prints of my bluchers sink deep in the sand:
I am out on the wallaby humping my drum,
And I came by the tracks where the sundowners come.
On the March
© Henry Lawson
So the time seems come at last,
And the drums go rolling past,
And above them in the sunlight Labour's banners float and flow;
They are marching with the sun,
But I look in vain for one
Of the men who fought for freedom more than fifteen years ago.
O World Of Many Worlds
© Wilfred Owen
O World of many worlds, O life of lives,
What centre hast thou? Where am I?
O whither is it thy fierce onrush drives?
Fight I, or drift; or stand; or fly?
On The Night Train
© Henry Lawson
Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by?
Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry;
Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky?
Have you heard the still voice calling yet so warm, and yet so cold:
"I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old"?
Olney Hymn 17: The House of Prayer
© William Cowper
Thy mansion is the Christian's heart,
O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure!
Bid the unruly throng depart,
And leave the consecrated door.
Out Back
© Henry Lawson
The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
The publican's words were short and few,
and the publican's looks were black --
And the time had come, as the shearer knew, to carry his swag Out Back.
Of The Wooing Of Halbiorn The Strong
© William Morris
A STORY FROM THE LAND-SETTLING BOOK OF ICELAND, CHAPTER XXX.
On First Looking Into Bee Palmer's Shoulders
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Then felt I like some patient with a pain
When a new surgeon swims into his ken,
Or like stout Brodie, when, with reeling brain,
He jumped into the river. There and then
I swayed and took the morning train
To Norwalk, Naugatuck, and Darien.
O Black And Unknown Bards
© James Weldon Johnson
O black and unknown bards of long ago,
How came your lips to touch the sacred fire?
On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The
© Andrew Marvell
Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold,
Leaves the new World and hastens for the old:
But though the wind was fair, the slowly swoome
Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:
Orlie Wilde
© James Whitcomb Riley
A goddess, with a siren's grace,-
A sun-haired girl on a craggy place
Above a bay where fish-boats lay
Drifting about like birds of prey.
On The Death Of A Young Lady
© George Gordon Byron
Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom,
Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove,
Whilst I return, to view my Margaret's tomb,
And scatter flowers on the dust I love.
Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom
© George Gordon Byron
Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
Ode to the Cambro-Britons and their Harp, His Ballad of Agi
© Michael Drayton
Fair stood the wind for France,
When we our sails advance;
Nor now to prove our chance
Longer will tarry;
On The Birth Of John William Rizzo Hoppner
© George Gordon Byron
His father's sense, his mother's grace,
In him I hope, will always fit so;
With--still to keep him in good case--
The health and appetite of Rizzo.
Offering
© Kenneth Allott
I offer you my forests and my street-cries
With hands of double-patience under the clock,
The antiseptic arguments and lies
Uttered before the flood, the submerged rock.
The sack of meal pierced by the handsome fencer,
The flowers dying for a great adventure.