Poems begining by S
/ page 234 of 287 /St. Peter and the Angel
© Denise Levertov
Delivered out of raw continual pain,
smell of darkness, groans of those others
to whom he was chained--
Stepping Westward
© Denise Levertov
What is green in me
darkens, muscadine.
If woman is inconstant,
good, I am faithful to
Sonnet. To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall
© John Keats
Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
Sound Sleep
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Some are laughing, some are weeping;
She is sleeping, only sleeping.
Round her rest wild flowers are creeping;
There the wind is heaping, heaping
Sweetest sweets of Summer's keeping.
By the corn-fields ripe for reaping.
Sonnet: "It is not to be thought of"
© William Wordsworth
IT is not to be thought of that the Flood
Of British freedom, which, to the open sea
September 1961
© Denise Levertov
This is the year the old ones,
the old great ones
leave us alone on the road.
Seeing For A Moment
© Denise Levertov
I thought, now is the time to step
into the fire
it was deep water.
San Borondon
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
Saint Brandan, a Scotch abbot, long ago
Sailed southward with a swarm of monks, to sow
The seeds of true religion nothing else
Among the tribes of naked infidels.
Sonnet Of Motherhood XXIX
© Zora Bernice May Cross
O Love, I fear the loneness of my limbs
Leaning to nothing to their solitude.
Draw up the blinds and let the stars rush in,
The mournful moon and all the air she swims.
I would not languish in my mother-mood
While just without earth makes her old, mad din.
Songs Of Education: VI. Hygiene
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Form 394411102, Sub-Section X
"All practical Eugenists are agreed on the importance of sleep."--The Eugenic Congress.
Silence
© Thomas Hood
There is a silence where hath been no sound,
There is a silence where no sound may be,
In the cold graveunder the deep, deep sea,
Or in wide desert where no life is found,
Sixth Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
There are, who darkling and alone,
Would wish the weary night were gone,
Sonnet 100: Oh Tears, No Tears
© Sir Philip Sidney
Oh tears, no tears, but rain from Beauty's skies,
Making those lilies and those roses grow,
Which aye most fair, now more than most fair show,
While graceful Pity Beauty beautifies.
Sonnet 36: Stella, Whence Doth This
© Sir Philip Sidney
Stella, whence doth this new assault arise,
A conquer'd, yielden, ransack'd heart to win?
Whereto long since through my long batter'd eyes,
Whole armies of thy beauties entered in.
Senlin: His Futile Preoccupations
© Conrad Aiken
Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
Senlin: His Dark Origins
© Conrad Aiken
He lights his pipe with a pointed flame.
'Yet, there were many autumns before I came,
And many springs. And more will come, long after
There is no horn for me, or song, or laughter.
Senlin: His Cloudy Destiny
© Conrad Aiken
Yet, we would say, this is no shore at all,
But a small bright room with lamplight on the wall;
And the familiar chair
Where Senlin sat, with lamplight on his hair.
Sonnet. "I cannot sleep for thinking of thy face"
© Frances Anne Kemble
I cannot sleep for thinking of thy face,
Which thrusts itself between the dark and me,
Sweethearts
© Dame Mary Gilmore
ITS gettin bits o posies,
N feelin mighty good;
A-thrillin cause she loves you,
An wondrin why she should;