Poems begining by S
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Stanzas
© Sir Henry Parkes
Up go the beautiful and world-watch'd stars,
Lifting the glory of America,
Simone Weil: The Year of Factory Work (1934-1935)
© Edward Hirsch
A glass of red wine trembles on the table,
Untouched, and lamplight falls across her shoulders.
Seals
© Gamaliel Bradford
I deliver a lecture
And pour out my soul,
Its full architecture,
All rounded and whole.
Sonnet LXXX. To The Invisible Moon
© Charlotte Turner Smith
DARK and conceal'd art thou, soft Evening's queen,
And Melancholy's votaries that delight
To watch thee, gliding through the blue serene,
Now vainly seek thee on the brow of night--
Sleep Is A Spirit
© Madison Julius Cawein
Sleep is a spirit, who beside us sits,
Or through our frames like some dim glamour flits;
Song in a Minor Key
© Dorothy Parker
There's a place I know where the birds swing low,
And wayward vines go roaming,
Sic Vita
© William Stanley Braithwaite
Heart free, hand free,
Blue above, brown under,
All the world to me
Is a place of wonder.
So This Is Nebraska
© Ted Kooser
The gravel road rides with a slow gallop
over the fields, the telephone lines
streaming behind, its billow of dust
full of the sparks of redwing blackbirds.
Sonnet: They Dub Thee Idler
© Henry Timrod
They dub thee idler, smiling sneeringly,
And why? because, forsooth, so many moons,
Sonnet X. To Mrs. G
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AH! why will Mem'ry with officious care
The long lost visions of my days renew?
Why paint the vernal landscape green and fair,
When life's gay dawn was opening to my view?
Song of Myself: 36
© Walt Whitman
Stretchd and still lies the midnight,
Two great hulls motionless on the breast of the darkness,
St. Peter Claver
© Toi Derricotte
On holy cards St. Peter’s face is olive-toned, his hair near kinky;
I thought he was one of us who pass between the rich and poor, the light and dark.
Now I read he was “a Spanish Jesuit priest who labored for the salvation of the African Negroes and the abolition of the slave trade.”
I was tricked again, robbed of my patron,
and left with a debt to another white man.
Say not the Struggle nought Availeth
© Arthur Hugh Clough
Say not the struggle nought availeth,
The labour and the wounds are vain,
The enemy faints not, nor faileth,
And as things have been they remain.
Sonnet II. On A Discovery Made Too Late
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Thou bleedest, my poor heart! and thy distress
Reas'ning I ponder with a scornful smile
And probe thy sore wound sternly, tho' the while
Swollen be mine eye and dim with heaviness.
Song. "When the sun rises where will you be"
© Frances Anne Kemble
When the sun rises where will you be
Wandering, sweetheart of mine?
Synopsis for a German Novella
© John Fuller
The Doctor is glimpsed among his mulberry trees.
The dark fruits disfigure the sward like contusions.
He is at once aloof, timid, intolerant
Of all banalities of village life,
And yet is stupefied by loneliness.
Sonnet VII: How soon hath Time, the Subtle Thief of Youth
© Patrick Kavanagh
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!
