Poems begining by S

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Song For Saint Cecilia's Day, 1687

© John Dryden

The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.

Song (Sylvia The Fair, In The Bloom Of Fifteen)

© John Dryden

Sylvia the fair, in the bloom of fifteen,
Felt an innocent warmth as she lay on the green:
She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guessed
By the towsing and tumbling and touching her breast:

Song From Marriage-A-La-Mode

© John Dryden

Why should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now,
When passion is decayed?

I wandered o'er the vast green plains of youth,
And searched for Pleasure. On a distant height
Fame's silhouette stood sharp against the skies.
Beyond vast crowds that thronged a broad highway
I caught the glimmer of a golden goal,
While from a blooming bower smiled siren Love.

Smoke

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Last summer, lazing by the sea,
I met a most entrancing creature,
Her black eyes quite bewildered me---
She had a Spanish cast of feature.

So Long In Coming

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

When shall I hear the thrushes sing,
And see their graceful, round throats swelling?
When shall I watch the bluebirds bring
The straws and twiglets for their dwelling?

Sing To Me

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Sing to me! Something of sunlight and bloom,
I am so compassed with sorrow and gloom,
I am so sick with the worlds noisse and strife, -
Sing of the beauty and brightness of life
Sing to me, sing to me!

Settle The Question Right

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

However the battle is ended,
Though proudly the victor comes,
With flaunting flags and neighing nags
And echoing roll of drums;

Sorrow's Uses

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

The uses of sorrow I comprehend
Better and better at each years end.Deeper and deeper I seem to see
Why and wherefore it has to beOnly after the dark, wet days
Do we fully rejoice in the suns bright rays.Sweeter the crust tastes after the fast

Song Of The Spirit

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Too sweet and too subtle for pen or for tongue
In phrases unwritten and measures unsung,
As deep and as strange as the sounds of the sea,
Is the song that my spirit is singing to me.

Sorry

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

There is much in life that makes me sorry as I journey
down lifes way.
And I seem to see more pathos in poor human
Lives each day.

Searching

These quiet Autumn days,
My soul, like Noah's dove, on airy wings
Goes out and searches for the hidden things
Beyond the hills of haze.

Smiles

Smile a little, smile a little,
As you go along,
Not alone when life is pleasant,
But when things go wrong.

St. Julian's Prayer

MOST readily, replied the courteous fair,
We never use the garret:--lodge him there;
Some straw upon a couch will make a bed,
On which the wand'rer may repose his head;
Shut well the door, but first provide some meat,
And then permit him thither to retreat.

Sister Jane

WHEN Sister Jane, who had produced a child,
In prayer and penance all her hours beguiled
Her sister-nuns around the lattice pressed;
On which the abbess thus her flock addressed:
Live like our sister Jane, and bid adieu
To worldly cares:--have better things in view.