Poems begining by S
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sublimely
© Rg Gregory
you may get fed up with me
she says (seing herself slightly)
fearing old age in a woman
must render her blightly
speedboats
© Rg Gregory
daggers skimmed in and out
of each other's wake
like speedboats
thirsting for death
starling
© Rg Gregory
a starling sat on the roof
(i don't know how young)
croaking in an old man's voice
cross with the dapper world
southampton water
© Rg Gregory
song of sea-leaves in an orchestra of foam
branches of violins sprayed across the mind
what is magnetic in a wave breaking white
drawing the chords of evening to a single sound
Song of The Waiting Dead
© George MacDonald
With us there is no gray fearing,
With us no aching for lack!
Song: Oh! Go to Sleep
© Joseph Rodman Drake
Oh! go to sleep, my baby dear,
And I will hold thee on my knee;
Sir Barnaby Bampton Boo
© William Schwenck Gilbert
This is SIR BARNABY BAMPTON BOO,
Last of a noble race,
Scintilla
© William Stanley Braithwaite
I kissed a kiss in youth
Upon a dead man's brow;
And that was long ago,--
And I'm a grown man now.
Spring Offensive
© Wilfred Owen
Halted against the shade of a last hill,
They fed, and, lying easy, were at ease
And, finding comfortable chests and knees
Carelessly slept. But many there stood still
To face the stark, blank sky beyond the ridge,
Knowing their feet had come to the end of the world.
Stanzas Composed During A Thunderstorm
© George Gordon Byron
Chill and mirk is the nightly blast,
Where Pindus' mountains rise,
And angry clouds are pouring fast
The vengeance of the skies.
Smile, Smile, Smile
© Wilfred Owen
Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.
Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned;
Street Cries
© Sarojini Naidu
WHEN dawn's first cymbals beat upon the sky,
Rousing the world to labour's various cry,
To tend the flock, to bind the mellowing grain,
From ardent toil to forge a little gain,
And fasting men go forth on hurrying feet,
Buy bread, buy bread, rings down the eager street.
Sonnet XXVI. To The River Arun
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy wild banks, by frequent torrents worn,
No glittering fanes, or marble domes appear,
Yet shall the mournful muse thy course adorn,
And still to her thy rustic waves be dear.
Sonnet XXIII: Love's Baubles
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I stood where Love in brimming armfuls bore
Slight wanton flowers and foolish toys of fruit:
Sonnet 89: "Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,..."
© William Shakespeare
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence:
Sonnet II
© George Gascoigne
Before mine eye, to feed my greedy will,
'Gan muster eke mine old acquainted mates,
Speaking Of Operations
© Ellis Parker Butler
I know something wonderfulwonderful;
So strange it will quite startle you;
So strange and absurd and unusual
It seems it can hardly be true!
Song For Heroes
© Ellis Parker Butler
Captain OHare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!
Says Mister Doojabs
© Ellis Parker Butler
Well, eight months ago one clear cold day,
I took a ramble up Broadway,
And with my hands behind my back
I strolled along on the streetcar track
(I walked on the track, for walking there
Gives one, I think, a distinguished air.)
