Poems begining by S
/ page 162 of 287 /Small Prayer
© Weldon Kees
Change, move, dead clock, that this fresh day
May break with dazzling light to these sick eyes.
Burn, glare, old sun, so long unseen,
That time may find its sound again, and cleanse
Whatever it is that a wound remembers
After the healing ends.
Sonnet IX: Passion And Worship
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
One flame-winged brought a white-winged harp-player
Even where my lady and I lay all alone;
Sonnet II
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I FEAR thee not, O Death! nay oft I pine
To clasp thy passionless bosom to mine own,
And on thy heart sob out my latest moan,
Ere lapped and lost in thy strange sleep divine;
Some Few Lines Made Upon The Sight Of Printed Papers Of Mr. William Houstouns
© William Cleland
To die obscure must be a dismal Fate,
Since Mortals purchase Fame at such a rate;
Sarah Byng, Who Could Not Read and Was Tossed into a Thorny Hedge by a Bull
© Hilaire Belloc
Some years ago you heard me sing
My doubts on Alexander Byng.
Some Beasts
© Pablo Neruda
A monkey is weaving
a thread of insatiable lusts
on the margins of morning:
he topples a pollen-fall,
startles the violet-flight
of the butterfly, wings on the Muzo.
Songs Set To Music: 11. Set By Mr. De Fesch
© Matthew Prior
Morella, charming without art,
And kind without design,
Can never lose the smallest part
Of such a heart as mine.
Sonnet 38: This Night While Sleep Begins
© Sir Philip Sidney
This night while sleep begins with heavy wings
To hatch mine eyes, and that unbitted thought
Doth fall to stray, and my chief powers are brought
To leave the scepter of all subject things,
Sonnet 64: No More, My Dear
© Sir Philip Sidney
No more, my dear, no more these counsels try;
Oh, give my passions leave to run their race;
Second Love
© Henry Timrod
Could I reveal the secret joy
Thy presence always with it brings,
The memories so strangely waked
Of long forgotten things,
Sleepy Hollow
© William Ellery Channing
No abbey's gloom, nor dark cathedral stoops,
No winding torches paint the midnight air;
Here the green pines delight, the aspen droops
Along the modest pathways, and those fair
Pale asters of the season spread their plumes
Around this field, fit garden for our tombs.
Sharing
© George MacDonald
On the far horizon there
Heaps of cloudy darkness rest;
Though the wind is in the air
There is stupor east and west.
'Siena Mi Fe'; Disfecemi Maremma'
© Ezra Pound
Among the pickled foetuses and bottled bones,
Engaged in perfecting the catalogue,
I found the last scion of the
Senatorial families of Strasbourg, Monsieur Verog.
Schemhammphorasch
© Rose Terry Cooke
‘This is the key which was given by the angel Michael to Pali, and by Pali to Moses. If “thou canst read it, then shalt thou understand the words of men, … the whistling of birds, the language of date-trees, the unity of hearts, ... nay, even the thoughts of the rains.”’
Gleanings after the Talmud
Sea Longings
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
The first world-sound that fell upon my ear
Was that of the great winds along the coast
Silentium
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Speak not, lie hidden, and conceal
the way you dream, the things you feel.
Snail
© Ho Xuan Huong
Mother and father gave birth to a snail
Night and day I crawl in smelly weeds
Dear prince, if you love me, unfasten my door
Stop, don't poke your finger up my tail!
Salvation
© Stephen Dunn
Finally, I gave up on obeisance,
and refused to welcome
either retribution or the tease