Poems begining by S
/ page 156 of 287 /
Song to Amarantha, that she would Dishevel her Hair
© Richard Lovelace
Amarantha sweet and fair
Ah braid no more that shining hair!
As my curious hand or eye
Hovering round thee let it fly.
Seele im Raum
© Randall Jarrell
It is over.
It is over so long that I begin to think
That it did not exist, that I have never—
And my son says, one morning, from the paper:
“An eland. Look, an eland!”
—It was so.
Superliminare
© George Herbert
Thou, whom the former precepts have
Sprinkled and taught, how to behave
Thy self in church; approach, and taste
Thy churches mysticall repast.
Space Bar
© Heather McHugh
Lined up behind the space bartender
is the meaning of it all, the vessels
marked with letters, numbers,
signs. Beyond the flats
Storm Ending
© Jean Toomer
Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads,
Great, hollow, bell-like flowers,
Scopolamine (English translation)
© Catherine Pozzi
This wine that flows within my vein
Has drowned my heart and will again
In the sky-with neither captain nor money-
My heart sails into a scene
Where Oblivion melts like honey
Scallop Song
© Anne Waldman
I wore a garland of the briar that put me now in awe
I wore a garland of the brain that was whole
Sonnets from the Portuguese 14: If Thou
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
Sanctuary
© James Russell Lowell
Those not caught, scratch sand up
to sleep against underbellies
of roots and stones.
Scraps. "Raise it to Heaven, when thine eye fills with tear"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Raise it to Heaven, when thine eye fills with tears,
For only in a watery sky appears
The bow of light; and from th' invisible skies
Hope's glory shines not, save through weeping eyes.
Sonnet LXXI: No Longer Mourn for me when I am Dead
© William Shakespeare
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sudden bell
Sonnet II: Of thee, kind boy, I ask no red and white
© Sir John Suckling
Of thee, kind boy, I ask no red and white,
To make up my delight;
Sonnet LVII. To Sleep.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
COME, Sleep Oblivion's sire! Come, blessed Sleep!
Thy shadowy sheltering wings above me spread.
Fold to thy balmy breast my weary head.
Shut close behind the gates of sense, and steep
Song
© James Joyce
My love is in a light attire
Among the apple trees,
Where the gay winds do most desire
To run in companies.
"Still I have not died, and still am not alone"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Still I have not died, and still am not alone,
while with my beggarwoman friend
I take my pleasure from the grandeur of the plain
and from its gloom, its hunger and its hurricanes.
Song of Social Despair
© Marvin Bell
Ethics without faith, excuse me,
is the butter and not the bread.
You can’t nourish them all, the dead
pile up at the hospital doors.
And even they are not so numerous
as the mothers come in maternity.
Streamers
© Wole Soyinka
1 As an archaeologist unearths a mask with opercular teeth
and abalone eyes, someone throws a broken fan and extension
cords
into a dumpster. A point of coincidence exists in the mind
Summer Evening
© Eamon Grennan
A spear of zinc light wounds stone and water,
stripping the scarlet fuchsia bells and yellow buttercups
