Poems begining by S
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Song: If you refuse me once, and think again
© Sir John Suckling
If you refuse me once, and think again,
I will complain.
You are deceiv’d, love is no work of art,
It must be got and born,
Not made and worn,
By every one that hath a heart.
Since the Cities are the Cities
© Henry Lawson
FOOLS can parrot-cry the prophet when the proof is close at hand,
And the blind can see the danger when the foe is in the land!
Truth was never cynicism, death or ruins not a joke,
Told-you-so is not a warningPatriotism not a croak.
Sonnet On An Old Book With Uncut Leaves
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
How different was the thought of him that writ.
What promised he to love of ease and wealth,
When men should read and kindle at his wit.
But here decay eats up the book by stealth,
While it, like some old maiden, solemnly,
Hugs its incongruous virginity!
Serenade
© James Russell Lowell
From the close-shut windows gleams no spark,
The night is chilly, the night is dark,
The poplars shiver, the pine-trees moan,
My hair by the autumn breeze is blown,
Under thy window I sing alone,
Alone, alone, ah woe! alone!
Sonnet: Grief Dies
© Henry Timrod
Grief dies like joy; the tears upon my cheek
Will disappear like dew. Dear God! I know
Sanctuary
© Jean Valentine
Here ... well, wanting solitude; and talk; friendship—
The uses of solitude. To imagine; to hear.
Learning braille. To imagine other solitudes.
But they will not be mine;
to wait, in the quiet; not to scatter the voices—
Sometimes I Wonder
© Mathilde Blind
Sometimes I wonder if you guess
The deep impassioned tenderness
Which overflows my heart;
The love I never dare confess;
Yet hard, yea, harder to repress
Than tears too fain to start.
Sonnet IV.
© John Milton
Diodati, e te'l diro con maraviglia,
Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea
E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea
Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s'impiglia.
San Biagio, at Montepulciano
© Raymond Carver
Columns, arches, vaults: how he knew
The ways you promise what you lack;
And that your bodies, like your souls,
Always slip from our grasping hands.
Sonnet 35: No more be grieved at that which thou hast done
© William Shakespeare
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done,
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Silence again
© Helen Hunt Jackson
Silence again. The glorious symphony
Hath need of pause and interval of peace.
Sonnets from the Portuguese 28: My Letters!
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
My letters! all dead paper, ... mute and white ! —
And yet they seem alive and quivering
"Star light, star bright,"
© Pierre Reverdy
Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.
Sing a While Longer
© Edwin Markham
Has the bright sun set,
Has the gale grown stronger?
Still we’ll not grieve yet:
We will sing a while longer!
Sonnet II. (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
As on a hill-top rude, when closing day
Imbrowns the scene, some past'ral maiden fair
Sonnet On Sitting Down To Read King Lear Once Again
© John Keats
O GOLDEN tongued Romance, with serene lute!
Fair plumed Syren, Queen of far-away!
Spiral
© Roddy Lumsden
These years lift over coldly now: Aprils
and Augusts are gifted to ice, or sprawl
into mid-summers or year ends—pillars
of lesser standing. Still come no replies
Song of Myself
© Walt Whitman
Creeds and schools in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,
Nature without check with original energy.
