Poems begining by S
/ page 19 of 287 /Six Years Later
© Joseph Brodsky
So long had life together been that nowthe second of January fell againon Tuesday, making her astonished browlift like a windshield wiper in the rain, so that her misty sadness cleared, and showed a cloudless distance waiting up the road
Sweet silence after bells
© Christopher John Brennan
Sweet silence after bells!deep in the enamour'd earsoft incantation dwells.
Sensation
© Bithell Jethro
In summer evenings blue, pricked by the wheatOn rustic paths the thin grass I shall tread,And feel its freshness underneath my feet,And, dreaming, let the wind bathe my bare head.
Stonehenge
© Binyon Heward Laurence
Gaunt on the cloudy plainStand the great Stones,Dwarfed in the vast reachOf a sky that owns
Self
© Benson Arthur Christopher
This is my chiefest torment, that behind The brave and subtle spirit, the swift brain, There sits and shivers, in a cell of pain,A groping atom, melancholy, blind,Which is myself; -- though, when spring suns are kind, And rich leaves riot in the genial rain, I cheat him, dreaming: slip my rigorous chain,Free as a skiff before the dancing wind
Song from Abdelazar
© Aphra Behn
Love in fantastic triumph sat, Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow'd,For whom fresh pains he did create, And strange tyrannic power he shew'd;From thy bright eyes he took his fire, Which round about in sport he hurl'd;But 'twas from mine he took desire Enough to undo the amorous world
Saltimbanques
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Dans la plaine les baladinsS'éloignent au long des jardinsDevant l'huis des auberges grisesPar les villages sans églises
Swarte Smekyd Smethes
© Anonymous
Swarte smekyd smethes, smateryd wyth smoke,Dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes
Summe Men Sayon that Y am Blac
© Anonymous
Summe men sayon that Y am blac. Yt ys a colour for my prow.Ther Y loue ther ys no lac. Y may not be so wyte as thou.
Stay with Me, God
© Anonymous
Stay with me, God. The night is dark,The night is cold: my little sparkOf courage dies. The night is long;Be with me, God, and make me strong.
St. Stephen and Herod
© Anonymous
Seynt Stevene was a clerk in Kyng Herowd{.e}s halle,And servyd him of bred and cloth, as every kyng befalle.
Soldiers who wish to be a hero
© Anonymous
Soldiers who wish to be a heroAre practically zero.But those who wish to be civilians,Jesus, they run into millions.
Sir Patrick Spence
© Anonymous
The king sits in Dumferling toune, Drinking the blude-reid wine:"O whar will I get guid sailor, To sail this schip of mine?"