Poems begining by S
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Sonnet 17: Who will believe my verse in time to come
© William Shakespeare
Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Sweet Death
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
The sweetest blossoms die.
And so it was that, going day by day
Signs of the Times
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Air a-gittin' cool an' coolah,
Frost a-comin' in de night,
Song
© William Shenstone
I told my nymph, I told her true,
My fields were small, my flocks were few,
While faltering accents spoke my fear,
That Flavia might not prove sincere.
Sonnet CXLII: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate
© William Shakespeare
Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
Spring and Autumn
© Francis Ledwidge
Green ripples singing down the corn,
With blossoms dumb the path I tread,
And in the music of the morn
One with wild roses on her head.
Song In March
© William Gilmore Simms
NOW are the winds about us in their glee,
Tossing the slender tree;
Sonnet 16
© Richard Barnfield
Long have I longd to see my love againe,
Still have I wisht, but never could obtaine it;
Success is counted sweetest (112)
© Emily Dickinson
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Socrates
© Edward Young
Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend.
The conscious moon through every distant age
Star
© Lola Ridge
Last night
I watched a star fall like a great pearl into the sea,
Till my ego expanding encompassed sea and star,
Containing both as in a trembling cup.
Sire
© William Stanley Merwin
Here comes the shadow not looking where it is going,
And the whole night will fall; it is time.
Here comes the little wind which the hour
Drags with it everywhere like an empty wagon through leaves.
Here comes my ignorance shuffling after them
Asking them what they are doing.
Sonnet LII.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
FROM THE NOVEL OF CELESTINA.
THE PILGRIM.
FAULTERING and sad the unhappy pilgrim roves,
Who, on the eve of bleak December's night,
Similarity
© Piet Hein
No cow's like a horse,
and no horse like a cow.
That's one similarity, anyhow.
Siberia
© James Clarence Mangan
IN Siberia's wastes
The ice-wind's breath
Woundeth like the toothed steel;
Lost Siberia doth reveal
Only blight and death.
Sonnet XVIII: On the Late Massacre in Piemont
© Patrick Kavanagh
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,
Still Life in Landscape
© Sharon Olds
It was night, it had rained, there were pieces of cars and
half-cars strewn, it was still, and bright,
Stupid Meditation on Peace
© Robert Pinsky
Insomniac monkey-mind ponders the Dove,
Symbol not only of Peace but sexual
Love, the couple nestled and brooding.
Sylvester’s Dying Bed
© Langston Hughes
I woke up this mornin’
’Bout half-past three.
All the womens in town
Was gathered round me.
Song #3.
© Robert Crawford
Love's but to be had this way:
Reverent you must be with her,
Letting your heart night and day
Dreamy in her beauty stir.
