Poems begining by S

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Spring In War-Time

© Edith Nesbit

Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow
Lies along the lovers lane
Where last year we used to go-
Where we shall not go again.

Sappho III

© Sara Teasdale

The twilight's inner flame grows blue and deep,
And in my Lesbos, over leagues of sea,
The temples glimmer moon-wise in the trees.
Twilight has veiled the little flower-face

Shakespeare

© Charles Harpur

How oft, in Austral woods, the parting day
Has gone through western golden gates away
While sweetest Shakespeare, fancys darling child,
Warbled for me his native woodnotes wild.

Sonnet XVIII: I Never Gave a Lock of Hair

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I never gave a lock of hair away

To a man, dearest, except this to thee,

Sonnet 16: In Nature Apt

© Sir Philip Sidney

In nature apt to like when I did see
Beauties, which were of many carats fine,
My boiling sprites did thither soon incline,
And, Love, I thought that I was full of thee:

Self Reliance

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

HENCEFORTH, please God, forever I forego

The yoke of men's opinions. I will be

Sonnet 119: "What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,..."

© William Shakespeare

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,

Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,

Seed-Time And Harvest

© John Greenleaf Whittier

As o'er his furrowed fields which lie
Beneath a coldly dropping sky,
Yet chill with winter's melted snow,
The husbandman goes forth to sow,

Stupid

© Raymond Carver

It's what the kids nowadays call weed. And it drifts

like clouds from his lips. He hopes no one

Sonnet 129: "Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame..."

© William Shakespeare

Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame

Is lust in action; and till action, lust

Stanzas Written In My Pocket Copy Of Thomsons "Castle Of Indolence"

© William Wordsworth

WITHIN our happy Castle there dwelt One
Whom without blame I may not overlook;
For never sun on living creature shone
Who more devout enjoyment with us took:

Sonnet CI: The One Hope

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

When vain desire at last and vain regret

Go hand in hand to death, and all is vain,

Sonnet I: Love Enthroned

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I marked all kindred Powers the heart finds fair:

Truth, with awed lips; and Hope, with eyes upcast;

Sonnet XXII: When Our Two Souls Stand Up

When our two souls stand up erect and strong,

Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,

Sonnet Written On A Fly-Leaf Of "The Rubaiyat" Of Omar Khayyam, The Astronomer-Poet Of Persia.

WHO deems the soul to endless death is thrall,
That no life breathes beyond that moment dire,
When every sense seems lost as outblown fire;

Sonnet 54: Because I Breathe

Because I breathe not love to every one,

Nor do not use set colours for to wear,

Sunday Brunch at the Old Country Buffet by Anne Caston: American Life in Poetry #45 Ted Kooser, U.S.

Poets are experts at holding mirrors to the world. Here Anne Caston, from Alaska, shows us a commonplace scene. HavenÃt we all been in this restaurant for the Sunday buffet? Caston overlays the picture with language that, too, is ordinary, even sloganistic, and overworn. But by zooming in on the joint of meat and the belly-up fishes floating in

butter, she compels us to look more deeply into what is before us, and a room that at first seemed humdrum becomes rich with inference.

Summer Dawn

SOME summer mornings when you've taken tea
Too late the night before perhaps you'll see,
If at some Berkshire farmhouse far away
You chance to wake while yet the sky is gray,

Simulacra

© Ezra Pound

Why does the horse-faced lady of just the unmentionable age
Walk down Longacre reciting Swinburne to herself, inaudibly?
Why does the small child in the soiled-white imitation fur coat
Crawl in the very black gutter beneath the grape stand?
Why does the really handsome young woman approach me in Sackville Street
Undeterred by the manifest age of my trappings?