Poems begining by S
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Sonnet XXXI.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written on Farm Wood, South Downs, May 1784.
SPRING'S dewy hand on this fair summit weaves
The downy grass, with tufts of Alpine flowers,
And shades the beechen slopes with tender leaves,
Silence
© Peter McArthur
One who was skilled in runes the gravings read,
And learned the wondrous image was the god
Of endless Silence. The searchers mutely bowed,
And mourned that faith so lofty should be dead;
And I their prone idolatry applaud
When strife and tumult in my paths are loud.
Shelley's Skylark.
© Thomas Hardy
Somewhere afield here something lies
In Earth's oblivious eyeless trust
That moved a poet to prophecies -
A pinch of unseen, unguarded dust
Song Of The Wandering Jew
© William Wordsworth
THOUGH the torrents from their fountains
Roar down many a craggy steep,
Yet they find among the mountains
Resting-places calm and deep.
Speckled Trout by Ron Rash: American Life in Poetry #28 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Although this poem by North Carolina native Ron Rash may seem to be just about trout fishing, it is the first of several poems Rash has written about his cousin who died years ago. Indirectly, the poet gives us clues about this loss. By the end, we see that in passing from life to death, the fish's colors dull; so, too, may fade the memories of a cherished life long lost.
Sonnet XVI. From Petrarch
© Charlotte Turner Smith
YE vales and woods! fair scenes of happier hours!
Ye feather'd people, tenants of the grove!
And you, bright stream! befringed with shrubs and flowers,
Behold my grief, ye witnesses of love!
Sonnet LXXVI. To A Young Man Entering The World
© Charlotte Turner Smith
GO now, ingenious youth!--The trying hour
Is come: The world demands that thou shouldst go
To active life: There titles, wealth, and power,
May all be purchased--Yet I joy to know
Sonnet XXXIX: Because Thou Hast the Power
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Because thou hast the power and own'st the grace
To look through and behind this mask of me
Sonnet VI
© Caroline Norton
WHERE the red wine-cup floweth, there art thou!
Where luxury curtains out the evening sky;--
Triumphant Mirth sits flush'd upon thy brow,
And ready laughter lurks within thine eye.
Sydney Nocturnes.
© Arthur Henry Adams
From The North Shore.
TO Day she would not show her charms;
But now the Night beseeches,
A white reproach of wistful arms
Sixteenth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Wish not, dear friends, my pain away -
Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
With GOD, in all my griefs, to stay,
Nor from His loved correction start.
Sonnet XXIII. By The Same. To The North Star.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
TO thy bright beams I turn my swimming eyes,
Fair, favourite planet, which in happier days
Saw my young hopes, ah, faithless hopes!--arise,
And on my passion shed propitious rays.
Spring Storm
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
I love a storm in early May
When springtime's boisterous, firstborn thunder
Over the sky will gaily wander
And growl and roar as though in play.
Spring And Autumn
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
The apple blossom from the bough is falling
In sunshine hours, the long young days of summer,
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
HIS Soul fared forth (as from the deep home-grove
The father-songster plies the hour-long quest),
Spectres
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
How terrible these nights are when alone
With our scarred hearts, we sit in solitude,
And some old sorrow, to the world unknown,
Does suddenly with silent steps intrude.
Song II
© Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
Why flatter thyself, Tyrant,
In ways great in evil?
The Lord's goodness ceases not
Keeping watch on the pious.
