Poems begining by S
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St Ives
© Roald Dahl
As I was going to St Ives
I met a man with seven wives
Said he, 'I think it's much more fun
Than getting stuck with only one.'
Strange Meeting
© Wilfred Owen
It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Spring Comes To Murray Hill
© Ogden Nash
I sit in an office at 244 Madison Avenue
And say to myself You have a responsible job havenue?
Why then do you fritter away your time on this doggerel?
If you have a sore throat you can cure it by using a good goggeral,
Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children
© Ogden Nash
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
Contrariwise, my blood runs cold
When little boys go by.
Song of the Open Road
© Ogden Nash
I think that I shall never see
A billboard lovely as a tree
Indeed, unless the billboards fall
I'll never see a tree at all.
Soliloquy in Circles
© Ogden Nash
Being a father
Is quite a bother.You are as free as air
With time to spare,You're a fiscal rocket
With change in your pocket,And then one morn
So Does Everybody Else, Only Not So Much
© Ogden Nash
O all ye exorcizers come and exorcize now, and ye clergymen draw nigh and clerge, For I wish to be purged of an urge
Samson Agonistes
© Ogden Nash
I test my bath before I sit,
And I'm always moved to wonderment
That what chills the finger not a bit
Is so frigid upon the fundament.
sten...
© Ogden Nash
There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, Let me out!
Stray Birds 01 - 10
© Rabindranath Tagore
STRAY birds of summer come to my window
to sing and fly away.
Song Of The Soul XXII
© Khalil Gibran
How can I sigh it? I fear it may
Mingle with earthly ether;
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells
In the house of my soul, in fear of
Harsh ears.
Sobre Las Olas (On The Waves)
© Jean Cocteau
The boys in striped knitware
make the waves sprout--is it a storm?
Sonnet XIII: And Wilt Thou Have Me
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
The love I bear thee, finding words enough,
Scars on Paper
© Marilyn Hacker
An unwrapped icon, too potent to touch,
she freed my breasts from the camp Empire dress.
Now one of them's the shadow of a breast
with a lost object's half-life, with as much
Summer Dawn
© William Morris
Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars
Summer
© William Morris
Summer looked for long am I:
Much shall change or e'er I die.
Prithee take it not amiss
Though I weary thee with bliss.
Spring
© William Morris
Spring am I, too soft of heart
Much to speak ere I depart:
Ask the Summer-tide to prove
The abundance of my love.
Song VIII: While Ye Deemed Him A-Sleeping
© William Morris
Love is enough: while ye deemed him a-sleeping,
There were signs of his coming and sounds of his feet;
His touch it was that would bring you to weeping,
When the summer was deepest and music most sweet:
