Poems begining by S

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Smoke

© Erica Jong

The smoke curls and beckons.
It is blue & lavender
& green as the undersea world.
It will take us, too.

Sonnet IV "They Dub Thee Idler, Smiling Sneeringly"

© Henry Timrod

They dub thee idler, smiling sneeringly,

And why? because, forsooth, so many moons,

Sabbath Bells

© George MacDonald

Oh holy Sabbath bells,
Ye have a pleasant voice!
Through all the land your music swells,
And man with one commandment tells
To rest and to rejoice.

Sonnet XLVI. Tennyson 2.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

HOW grand he would have stood, had he declined
The needless coronet he donned, as though
Its gilt could heighten his proud aureole's glow.
But downward he has stepped, a seat to find

Sonnet XXI. Supposed To Written By Werter

© Charlotte Turner Smith

GO! cruel tyrant of the human breast!
To other hearts thy burning arrows bear;
Go, where fond hope, and fair illusion rest;
Ah! why should love inhabit with despair!

Sursum Cor!

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Lament no more, my heart, lament no more,
Though all these clouds have covered up the light,
And thou, so far from shore,
Art baffled in mid flight;

Sonnet V: Heart's Hope

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

By what word's power, the key of paths untrod,

Shall I the difficult deeps of Love explore,

Saddest Poem

© Pablo Neruda

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

Sonnet 19

© Richard Barnfield

Ah no; nor I my selfe : though my pure loue

(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still beene pure,

Sonnet. On A Picture Of Leander

© John Keats

Come hither all sweet Maidens soberly

Down looking aye, and with a chasten'd light

Sonnet: At Ostend, July 22nd 1787

© William Lisle Bowles

How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal!
As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze
Breathes on the trembling sense of wan disease,
So piercing to my heart their force I feel!

Sonnet: Languid, And Sad, And Slow, From Day To Day

© William Lisle Bowles

Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day
I journey on, yet pensive turn to view
(Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue)
The streams and vales, and hills, that steal away.

Sonnet: July 18th 1787

© William Lisle Bowles

O Time! who know'st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
The faint pang stealest unperceived away;

Sonnet: O Poverty! Though From Thy Haggard Eye

O, Poverty! though from thy haggard eye,
Thy cheerless mien, of every charm bereft,
Thy brow that Hope's last traces long have left,
Vain Fortune's feeble sons with terror fly;

Sonnet: At Dover Cliffs, July 20th 1787

On these white cliffs, that calm above the flood
Uplift their shadowing heads, and, at their feet,
Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat,
Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood;

So Breaks The Sun

So breaks the sun earth's rugged chains,
Wherein rude winter bound her veins;
So grows both stream and source of price,
That lately fettered were with ice.

Sign-Board

I will paint you a sign, rumseller,

And hang it above your door;

Song To Diana

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.

STILL to be neat, still to be drest,
As you were going to a feast;
Still to be powder'd, still perfumed:
Lady, it is to be presumed,
Though art's hid causes are not found,
All is not sweet, all is not sound.