Poems begining by S
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Song.Since thou wilt banish me
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Since thou wilt banish me,
A long and last adieu!
This heart shall cherish thee,
Though ne'er those hopes renew
That once thy kindness bade me know,
And now thy falsehood turns to woe.
Sonnet I
© Mikolaj Sep Szarzynski
Alas, hardpressed the whirling orbs
And swift Titan hie fleeting hours,
And cleave delights with woe avid
Death might - fast on us, she strides!
Six Weeks Old
© Christopher Morley
HE is so small he does not know
The summer sun, the winter snow;
The spring that ebbs and comes again,
All this is far beyond his ken.
Sonnet 107: "Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul..."
© William Shakespeare
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Strength
© Robert Browning
Be strong to hope, O heart!
Though day is bright,
The stars can only shine
In the dark night.
Be strong, O heart of mine,
Look toward the light.
Sonnet: On Seeing A Piece Of Our Heavy Artillery Brought Into Action
© Wilfred Owen
Be slowly lifted up, thou long black arm,
Great Gun towering towards Heaven, about to curse;
Sway steep against them, and for years rehearse
Huge imprecations like a blasting charm!
Song Of America
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
And now, when poets are singing
Their songs of olden days,
And now, when the land is ringing
With sweet Centennial lays,
Summer Dawn.
© Robert Crawford
Come with thy feet to the water, and bathe
Thy beauty here in the stream that will not pass!
The soft green leaves with their shadows swathe
The either bank, and under the ferns and grass
SomeWork for Immortality
© Emily Dickinson
SomeWork for Immortality
The Chiefer part, for Time
HeCompensatesimmediately
The formerCheckson Fame
Sonnet 6
© Richard Barnfield
Sweete Corrall lips, where Natures treasure lies,
The balme of blisse, the soueraigne salue of sorrow,
She sights a Birdshe chuckles
© Emily Dickinson
She sights a Birdshe chuckles
She flattensthen she crawls
She runs without the look of feet
Her eyes increase to Balls
Sonnet, For My Mothers Birthday
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
AT thy approach, oh, sweet bewitching May!
Through ev'ry wood soft melodies resound;
On silken wings Favonian breezes play,
And scatter bloom and fragrance all around!
Sonnet V "Some Truths There Be Are Better Left Unsaid"
© Henry Timrod
Some truths there be are better left unsaid;
Much is there that we may not speak unblamed.
Sonnet VIII. To Mercy
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Not always should the tear's ambrosial dew
Roll its soft anguish down thy furrowed cheek!
Not always heaven-breathed tones of suppliance meek
Beseem thee, Mercy! Yon dark Scowler view,
Sonnet LV.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
RETURN OF THE NIGHTINGALE.
Written in May, 1791.
BORNE on the warm wing of the western gale,
How tremulously low is heard to float
Sonnet VIII. To My Brothers
© John Keats
Small, busy flames play through the fresh laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls.
