Poems begining by S

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Sonnet XIV: Youth's Spring-Tribute

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

On this sweet bank your head thrice sweet and dear

I lay, and spread your hair on either side,

September, 1918

© Amy Lowell

This afternoon was the colour of water falling through sunlight;

The trees glittered with the tumbling of leaves;

Songs Of The Grass

© Bliss William Carman

I
On The Dunes
HERE all night on the dunes
In the rocking wind we sleep;

Song: I once rejoiced, sweet evening gale...

© Amelia Opie

I once rejoiced, sweet evening gale,
To see thy breath the poplar wave;
But now it makes my cheek turn pale,
It waves the grass oer Henrys grave.

Song Of Starlings

© Padraic Colum

WE'VE watched the starlings flocking past the statues

That we have often seen in other cities

Plurality is all. I sympathize, but cannot grieve
too long for those who wear their dialectics on their sleeves.
The pattern’s one I sometimes rather like; there’s really nothing wrong
with it for some. But I should add: It doesn’t wear for long,
before I push the elevator bell and quickly leave.

Sonnet 109: "O! never say that I was false of heart,..."

© William Shakespeare

O! never say that I was false of heart,

Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify,

Song (Wintah, summah, snow er shine)

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

Wintah, summah, snow er shine,
Hit's all de same to me,
Ef only I kin call you mine,
An' keep you by my knee.

Sonnet 24: Rich Fools There Be

© Sir Philip Sidney

Rich fools there be, whose base and filthy heart
Lies hatching still the goods wherein they flow:
And damning their own selves to Tantal's smart,
Wealth breeding want, more blist more wretched grow.

Spring Snow

© William Matthews

Here comes the powdered milk I drank
as a child, and the money it saved.
Here come the papers I delivered,
the spotted dog in heat that followed me home

Street Dog

© Amrita Pritam

It's really something from the past—
when you and I split up
without any regrets—
just one thing that I don't quite understand . . .

Song Of The Orphan

© Rainer Maria Rilke

I am no one and never will be anyone,
for I am far too small to claim to be;
not even later.

Sonnet XXXIX. Bayard Taylor.

© Christopher Pearse Cranch

CAN one so strong in hope, so rich in bloom
That promised fruit of nobler worth than all
He yet had given, drop thus with sudden fall?
The busy brain no more its work resume?

Sonnet To The Strawberry

© Helen Maria Williams

THE Strawberry blooms upon its lowly bed,

Plant of my native soil!--the Lime may fling

Song. Written At The Request Of Lady Austen

When all within is peace,
How nature seems to smile;
Delights that never cease,
The live-long day beguile.

Sic Transit

"What did she leave?" . . .

Only these hungry miser-words, poor heart!

Sohrab and Rustum: An Episode

"Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear!
Let there be truce between the hosts to-day.
But choose a champion from the Persian lords
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man."

Sheoaks That Sigh When The Wind Is Still

© Henry Lawson

Why are the sheoaks forever sighing?
(Sheoaks that sigh when the wind is still)
Why are the dead hopes forever dying?
(Dead hopes that died and are with us still.)
As you make it and what you will.