Poems begining by S
/ page 250 of 287 /
Secretary
© Robert William Service
My Master is a man of might
With manners like a hog;
He makes me slave from morn to night
And treats me like a dog.
Success
© Robert William Service
You ask me what I call Success -
It is, I wonder, Happiness?It is not wealth, it is not fame,
Nor rank, nor power nor honoured name.
It is not triumph in the Arts -
Segregation
© Robert William Service
I think he slapped that Dago's face;
His voice was big an' loud;
An' then he leads me from my place
Through all that tony crowd.
World-famous Louie by the hand
Took me to meet his famous Band.
Saturday Paseo: Adelina
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Oranges
do not grow in the sea
neither is there love in Sevilla.
You in Dark and the I the sun that's hot,
loan me your parasol.
Serenata
© Federico Garcia Lorca
The night soaks itself
along the shore of the river
and in Lolita's breasts
the branches die of love.
Soneto
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Largo espectro de plata conmovida
el viento de la noche suspirando,
abri? con mano gris mi vieja herida
y se alej?: yo estaba deseando.
Sonnet of the Sweet Complaint
© Federico Garcia Lorca
Never let me lose the marvel
of your statue-like eyes, or the accent
the solitary rose of your breath
places on my cheek at night.
Sympathy
© Rabindranath Tagore
If I were only a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear, would
you say "No" to me if I tried to eat from your dish?
Would you drive me off, saying to me, "Get away, you naughty
little puppy?"
Superior
© Rabindranath Tagore
Mother, your baby is silly! She is so absurdly childish!
She does not know the difference between the lights in the
streets and the stars.
When we play at eating with pebbles, she thinks they are real
Strong Mercy
© Rabindranath Tagore
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful,
but ever didst thou save me by hard refusals;
and this strong mercy has been wrought into my life through and through.
Stream Of Life
© Rabindranath Tagore
It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth
in numberless blades of grass
and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
Still Heart
© Rabindranath Tagore
When I give up the helm
I know that the time has come for thee to take it.
What there is to do will be instantly done.
Vain is this struggle.
Song Unsung
© Rabindranath Tagore
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set;
only there is the agony of wishing in my heart. The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by. I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice;
only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house. The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor;
but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house. I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet.
Sleep
© Rabindranath Tagore
In the night of weariness
let me give myself up to sleep without struggle,
resting my trust upon thee.
Sit Smiling
© Rabindranath Tagore
I boasted among men that I had known you.
They see your pictures in all works of mine.
They come and ask me, `Who is he?'
I know not how to answer them. I say, `Indeed, I cannot tell.'
They blame me and they go away in scorn.
And you sit there smiling.
Silent Steps
© Rabindranath Tagore
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind,
but all their notes have always proclaimed,
`He comes, comes, ever comes.'
Signet of Eternity
© Rabindranath Tagore
The day was when I did not keep myself in readiness for thee;
and entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd,
unknown to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon
many a fleeting moment of my life.
She
© Rabindranath Tagore
She who ever had remained in the depth of my being,
in the twilight of gleams and of glimpses;
she who never opened her veils in the morning light,
will be my last gift to thee, my God, folded in my final song.
Senses
© Rabindranath Tagore
Deliverance is not for me in renunciation.
I feel the embrace of freedom in a thousand bonds of delight. Thou ever pourest for me the fresh draught of thy wine of various
colours and fragrance, filling this earthen vessel to the brim. My world will light its hundred different lamps with thy flame
and place them before the altar of thy temple. No, I will never shut the doors of my senses.
Seashore
© Rabindranath Tagore
On the seashore of endless worlds children meet.
The infinite sky is motionless overhead
and the restless water is boisterous.
On the seashore of endless worlds
the children meet with shouts and dances.
