Poems begining by S
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Song of the Indian Maid
© John Keats
O SORROW!
Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?¡ª
To give maiden blushes
To the white rose bushes? 5
Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?
Song of Fairies Robbing an Orchard
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
We, the Fairies, blithe and antic,
Of dimensions not gigantic,
Though the moonshine mostly keep us,
Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.
Spring and Fall: To A Young Child
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Satires of Circumstance in Fifteen Glimpses VIII: In the St
© Thomas Hardy
He enters, and mute on the edge of a chair
Sits a thin-faced lady, a stranger there,
Ser poeta
© Florbela Espanca
Ser poeta é ser mais alto, é ser maior
Do que os homens! Morder como quem beija!
É ser mendigo e dar como quem seja
Rei do Reino de Aquém e de Além Dor!
Solitude
© Mihai Eminescu
With the curtains drawn together,
At my table of rough wood,
And the firelight flickering softly,
Do I fall to thoughtful mood.
Shakespeare
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
I SEE all human wits
Are measured but a few;
Unmeasured still my Shakespeare sits
Lone as the blessed Jew.
Sacrifice
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
THOUGH love repine and reason chafe
There came a voice without reply ¡ª
'T is man's perdition to be safe,
When for the truth he ought to die.
Summer
© John Clare
Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
Sorrowful Friends
© Zieroth David Dale
They will always be with us, with their newsof calamity that makes our chests feel some old collapse of our own, a protest against divergence, a bruiseon last bits of skin we thought still freshand fairly managing the task of the presenting flesh
to a world aimed at it
Sonnets from The River Duddon: After-Thought
© William Wordsworth
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,As being past away
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
© William Wordsworth
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
She Dwelt among the Untrodden Ways
© William Wordsworth
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove,A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love:
Song of a Sewing Machine
© Woodrow Constance
Oh, the happiest worker of all am I,As my wheel and my needle so merrily fly;With a spool full of thread and a heart full of song,I am ready and willing to work the day long.
Solitude
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone;For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own
Solomon Grundy
© Whitney Adeline Dutton Train
"Solomon GrundyBorn on Monday,Christened on Tuesday,Married on Wednesday,Sick on Thursday,Worse on Friday,Dead on Saturday,Buried on Sunday,This was the endOf Solomon Grundy."
St. Augustine and Monica
© Turner Charles (Tennyson)
When Monica's young son had felt her kiss --Her weeping kiss -- for years, her sorrow flowedAt last into his wilful blood; he owedTo her his after-life of truth and bliss:And her own joy, what words, what thoughts could paint!When o'er his soul, with sweet constraining force,Came Penitence -- a fusion from remorse --And made her boy a glorious Christian saint
