Poems begining by S
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Sonnet XII
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
As the lone, frighted user of a night-road
Suddenly turns round, nothing to detect,
Sylvia's Mother
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Sylvia's mother says Sylvia's busy,
too busy to come to the phone .
Sylvia's mother says Sylvia's trying
to start a new life of her own.
Sylvia's mother says "Sylvia's happy...
So why don't you leave her alone?"
Sonnet 72: O lest the world should task you to recite
© William Shakespeare
O lest the world should task you to recite,
What merit lived in me that you should love
"She sat upon the floor..."
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
She sat upon the floor
Looking through a pile of letters,
Shooting Season
© Robinson Jeffers
IN THE NORTH OF SCOTLAND
The whole countryside deployed on the hills of heather, an army
Say, What Is Honour?--Tis The Finest Sense
© William Wordsworth
SAY, what is Honour?--'Tis the finest sense
Of 'justice' which the human mind can frame,
Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim,
And guard the way of life from all offence
Sonnet To Henry Cowper, Esq.
© William Cowper
Cowper, whose silver voice, tasked sometimes hard,
Legends prolix delivers in the ears
(Attentive when thou read'st) of England's peers,
Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward.
Sonnett - X
© James Russell Lowell
I cannot think that thou shouldst pass away,
Whose life to mine is an eternal law,
Sonnet XXIX
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
My weary life, that lives unsatisfied
On the foiled off-brink of being e'er but this,
Sonnet XXXIII. Life And Death. 5.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
YET in all facts of sense life stands revealed;
And from a thousand symbols hope may take
Its charter to escape the Stygian lake,
And find existence in an ampler field.
Songs Of The World Unborn
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Songs of the world unborn
Swelling within me, a shoot from the heart of Spring,
As I walk the ample teeming street
This tranquil and misty morn,
What is it to me you sing?
Sonnet XXXI
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
I am older than Nature and her Time
By all the timeless age of Consciousness,
Sonnet 145: "Those lips that Love's own hand did make..."
© William Shakespeare
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breath'd forth the sound that said I hate
Syrinx
© Henry Kendall
A HEAP of low, dark, rocky coast,
Unknown to foot or feather!
A sea-voice moaning like a ghost;
And fits of fiery weather!
Sonnet -- The Peasant
© Mary Darby Robinson
WIDE o'er the barren plain the bleak wind flies,
Sweeps the high mountain's top, and with its breath
Swells the curl'd river o'er the plain beneath,
Where many a clay-built hut in ruin lies.
Second Class wait here
© Henry Lawson
At suburban railway stations--you may see them as you pass--
there are signboards on the platform saying "Wait here second class,"
Sonnet 24: Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled
© William Shakespeare
Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled,
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart,
Sonnet 22: In Highest Way of Heav'n
© Sir Philip Sidney
In highest way of heav'n the Sun did ride,
Progressing then from fair twins' golden place:
Having no scarf of clouds before his face,
But shining forth of heat in his chief pride;
Sonnet LXVI: I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
© Pablo Neruda
I do not love you except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
From waiting to not waiting for you
My heart moves from cold to fire.
Strife and Peace
© Jean Ingelow
The yellow poplar-leaves came down
And like a carpet lay,
No waftings were in the sunny air
To flutter them away;
And he stepped on blithe and debonair
That warm October day.
