Poems begining by S
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Sent To Mr. Haley, On Reading His Epistles On Epic Poetry
© Henry James Pye
What blooming garlands shall the Muses twine,
What verdant laurels weave, what flowers combine,
Song of the Foot Track
© Elsie Cole
COME away, come away from the straightness of the road;
I will lead you into delicate recesses
State Of Siege
© Arthur Rimbaud
The poor omnibus driver under the tin canopy,
warming a huge chilblain inside his glove,
follows his heavy omnibus along the left bank,
and from his inflated groin thrusts away the moneybag.
Song: Cease, cease, Aminta, to complain
© Aphra Behn
CEASE, cease, Aminta, to complain,
Thy languishments give oer,
Sudden Joy
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O what magic shall compare
Of the fresh earth or bright air
To the joy that love around
My full heart so swift has wound,
Far beyond hope's trembling flight
Back recoiling in delight.
Supplication
© Edgar Lee Masters
Oh Lord, when all our bones are thrust
Beyond the gaze of all but Thine;
And these blaspheming tongues are dust
Which babbled of Thy name divine,
Sonnet 78: Oh How The Pleasant Airs
© Sir Philip Sidney
Oh how the pleasnat airs of true love be
Infect'd by those vapors, which arise
From out that noisome gulf, which gaping lies
Between the jaws of hellish Jealousy:
Seeing the Eclipse in Maine by Robert Bly: American Life in Poetry #165 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea
© Ted Kooser
In âThe Moose,â? a poem much too long to print here, the late Elizabeth Bishop was able to show a community being created from a group of strangers on a bus who come in contact with a moose on the highway. They watch it together and become one. Here Robert Bly of Minnesota assembles a similar community, around an eclipse. Notice how the experience happens to âwe,â? the group, not just to âme,â? the poet.
Seeing the Eclipse in Maine
It started about noon. On top of Mount Batte,
We were all exclaiming. Someone had a cardboard
And a pin, and we all cried out when the sun
Appeared in tiny form on the notebook cover.
Sus Ventanas
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Sus ventanas floridas
Que miran al oriente,
Llevan buena amistad con las auroras
Que, como primicias fulgidas, esmaltan
Al campo de victorias de su frente.
Solomon
© Thomas Parnell
But long expectance of a bliss delay'd
Breeds anxious doubt, and tempts the sacred maid;
Then mists arising strait repel the light,
The colour'd garden lies disguis'd with night,
A pale-horn'd crescent leads a glimm'ring throng,
And groans of absence jarr within the song.
Sonnet VI. To G. A. W.
© John Keats
Nymph of the downward smile and sidelong glance!
In what diviner moments of the day
Art thou most lovely? -- when gone far astray
Into the labyrinths of sweet utterance,
Stars
© Kenneth Slessor
"THESE are the floating berries of the night,
They drop their harvest in dark alleys down,
Softly far down on groves of Venus, or on a little town
Forgotten at the world's edgeand O, their light
Shovel And Tongs
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
The Poker proposed to the shovel
That they should be man and wife,
"I think," said he, "that we could agree
As we journey along through life."
Stanzas On The Late Indecent Liberties Taken With The Remains Of The Great Milton
© William Cowper
"Me too, perchance, in future days,
The sculptured stone shall show,
With Paphian myrtle or with bays
Parnassian on my brow.
Sandys Ghost ; A Proper Ballad on the New Ovid's Metamorphosis
© Alexander Pope
Ye Lords and Commons, Men of Wit,
And Pleasure about Town;
Read this ere you translate one Bit
Of Books of high Renown.
Sonnet I: I Thought Once How Theocritus
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Sylvia, Methinks You Are Unfit
© Charles Sackville
Sylvia, methinks you are unfit
For your great Lord's embrace;
For tho' we all allow you wit,
We can't a handsome face.
Safe And Sound
© Ezra Pound
My name is Nunty Cormorant
And my finance is sound,
I lend you Englishmen hot air
At one and three the pound.
Superstites Rosae
© Richard Rowe
The grass is green upon her grave,
The west wind whispers low;
"The corn is changed, come forth, come forth,
Ere all the blossoms go!"
Sonnets Of The Blood IV
© Allen Tate
The times have changed. Why do you make a fuss
For privilege when there's no law of form?
