Poems begining by S
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Sir Peter Harpdon's End
© William Morris
John Curzon
Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.
Swift
© Delmore Schwartz
What shall Presto do for pretty prattle
To entertain his dears? Sunday: lightning fifty times!
This week to Flanders goes the Duke of Ormond!
Shall hope of him, although he loves me well!
Scots Wha Hae
© Robert Burns
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!
September
© Joanne Kyger
The grasses are light brown
and the ocean comes in
long shimmering lines
under the fleet from last night
which dozes now in the early morning
Sonnets from the Portuguese 20: Beloved, my Beloved
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Beloved, my Beloved, when I think
That thou wast in the world a year ago,
Stella In Mourning
© Samuel Johnson
When lately Stella's form display'd
The beauties of the gay brocade,
Sunset
© George Charles Whitney
Behind the golden western hills
The sun goes down, a founder'd bark,
Only a mighty sadness fills
The silence of the dark.
Song: Out upon it, I have lovd
© Sir John Suckling
Out upon it, I have lovd
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.
Sonnet 151: "Love is too young to know what conscience is,..."
© William Shakespeare
Love is too young to know what conscience is,
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Sonnet LXVI: Tir'd with all these, for Restful Death
© William Shakespeare
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
St Vincent’s
© William Stanley Merwin
eyes open and ears to hear
these years across from St Vincent’s Hospital
above whose roof those clouds rose
Secret Life
© Li-Young Lee
Alone with time, he waits for his parents to wake,
a boy growing old at the dining room table,
Society
© Ezra Pound
The family position was waning,
And on this account the little Aurelia,
Who had laughed on eighteen summers,
Now bears the palsied contact of Phidippus.
Sonnet 31: Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts
© William Shakespeare
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
Sonnet XVIII
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Indefinite space, which, by co-substance night,
In one black mystery two void mysteries blends;
Spelt from Sibyl’s Leaves
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Earnest, earthless, equal, attuneable, ' vaulty, voluminous, . . . stupendous
Evening strains to be time’s vást, ' womb-of-all, home-of-all, hearse-of-all night.
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers (124)
© Emily Dickinson
Safe in their Alabaster Chambers -
Untouched by Morning -
and untouched by noon -
Sleep the meek members of the Resurrection,
Rafter of Satin and Roof of Stone -
Shore Line
© Carl Rakosi
Barrel-chested military water
rushes in a mass
to break the shore earth
into stonekind.
Sometimes with One I Love
© Walt Whitman
Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturnd love,
But now I think there is no unreturnd love, the pay is certain one way or another
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not returnd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs).
