Poems begining by S

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Sonnet XV. On The Grasshopper And Cricket

© John Keats

The poetry of earth is never dead:

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,

Sonnet. "Blaspheme not thou thy sacred life, nor turn"

© Frances Anne Kemble

Blaspheme not thou thy sacred life, nor turn

O'er joys that God hath for a season lent,

Siege Of Vienna Raised By Jihn Sobieski

© William Wordsworth

FEBRUARY 1816
OH, for a kindling touch from that pure flame
Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice
Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies,

Song II

© James Russell Lowell

O moonlight deep and tender,
A year and more agone,
Your mist of golden splendor
Round my betrothal shone!

Simon Lee: The Old Huntsman

© William Wordsworth

. With an incident in which he was concerned

In the sweet shire of Cardigan,

Sweet, Sweet Days Are Passing

© Louisa May Alcott

Sweet, sweet days are passing

O'er my happy home.

Sonnet 25: The Wisest Scholar

© Sir Philip Sidney

The wisest scholar of the wight most wise
By Phoebus' doom, with sugar'd sentence says,
That Virtue, if it once met with our eyes,
Strange flames of love it in our souls would raise;

Scherzo

© Giacomo Leopardi

When, as a boy, I went

To study in the Muses' school,

Said The Thistle-Down

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

"If thou wilt hold my silver hair,

O Lady sweet and bright;

Sonnets At Christmas II

© Allen Tate

Ah, Christ, I love you rings to the wild sky

And I must think a little of the past:

Sonnet XIV. From Petrarch

© Charlotte Turner Smith

LOOSE to the wind her golden tresses stream'd,
Forming bright waves with amorous Zephyr's sighs;
And though averted now, her charming eyes
Then with warm love, and melting pity beam'd,

Second Sight

They lean their faces to me through
Green windows of the woods;
Their white throats sweet with honey-dew
Beneath low leafy hoods--
No dream they dream but hath been true
Here in the solitudes.

Sonnet XIII. To La Fayette

As when far off the warbled strains are heard
That soar on Morning's wing the vales among,
Within his cage th' imprisoned matin bird
Swells the full chorus with a generous song:

Songs In Many Keys

1849-1861

THE piping of our slender, peaceful reeds

Sunrise

The clouds are withdrawn

And their thin-rippled mist,

Markov took off his boots and, with a deep breath, lay down on the divan.
He felt sleepy but, as soon as he closed his eyes, the desire for sleep immediately passed. Markov opened his eyes and stretched out his hand for a book. But sleep again came over him and, not even reaching the book, Markov lay down and once more closed his eyes. But, the moment his eyes closed, sleepiness left him again and his consciousness became so clear that Markov could solve in his head algebraical problems involving equations with two unknown quantities.
Markov was tormented for quite some time, not knowing what to do: should he sleep or should he liven himself up? Finally, exhausted and thoroughly sick of himself and his room, Markov put on his coat and hat, took his walking cane and went out on to the street. The fresh breeze calmed Makarov down, he became rather more at one with himself and felt like going back home to his room.
Upon going into his room, he experienced an agreeable bodily fatigue and felt like sleeping. But, as soon as he lay down on the divan and closed his eyes, his sleepiness instantly evaporated.