Poems begining by S
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Sonnet VI.
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Pale Roamer thro' the Night! thou poor forlorn!
Remorse that man on his death-bed possess,
Who in the credulous hour of tenderness
Betrayed, then cast thee forth to Want and scorn!
Songs Set To Music: 1. Set By Mr. Abel
© Matthew Prior
Reading ends in melancholy,
Wine breeds vices and diseases,
Sonnett - XXV
© James Russell Lowell
I grieve not that ripe Knowledge takes away
The charm that Nature to my childhood wore,
Sonnet. If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain'd
© John Keats
If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,
And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet
Fetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness;
Let us find out, if we must be constrain'd,
Say Not He Loves Me
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
Say not he loves me as before, as truly, dearly
As once he did… Oh no! My life
He would destroy, he does destroy - though see I clearly
The trembling of the hand that holds the knife.
Sonnet II: Go, Wailing Verse
© Samuel Daniel
Go, wailing verse, the infants of my love,
Minerva-like, brought forth without a Mother:
Sonnet VII
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Thy words are torture to me, that scarce grieve thee--
That entire death shall null my entire thought;
Sickness
© John Crowe Ransom
God plucked him back, and plucked him back,
And did his best to smoothe the pain.
The sick man said it was good to know
That God was true, if prayer was vain.
SONNET. I prethee turn that face away
© Henry King
I prethee turn that face away
Whose splendour but benights my day.
Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts
Shun the bright rayes which beauty darts.
Song I
© Charlotte Turner Smith
FROM THE FRENCH OF CARDINAL BERNIS.
I.
FRUIT of Aurora's tears, fair rose,
On whose soft leaves fond zephyrs play,
Salopia Inhospitalis
© Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen
TOUCH not that maid:
She is a flower, and changeth but to fade.
Sincerity
© Mary Barber
Sincerity, what are thy Views;
No more my Breast attend.
By thee, alas! we often lose,
But seldom gain a Friend.
Song To The Men Of England
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Men of England, wherefore plough
For the lords who lay ye low?
Wherefore weave with toil and care
The rich robes your tyrants wear?
Sonnet 29: Like Some Weak Lords
© Sir Philip Sidney
Like some weak lords, neighbor'd by mighty kings,
To keep themselves and their chief cities free,
Do easily yield, that all their coasts may be
Ready to store their camps of needful things:
Stanzas For Music: There Be None Of Beauty's Daughters
© George Gordon Byron
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like Thee;
Sonnet To Byron
© John Keats
Byron! how sweetly sad thy melody!
Attuning still the soul to tenderness,
As if soft Pity, with unusual stress,
Had touch'd her plaintive lute, and thou, being by,
Series
© Paul Eluard
For the splendour of the day of happinesses in the air
To live the taste of colours easily
To enjoy loves so as to laugh
To open eyes at the final moment
Sonnet XVI. To Kosciusko
© John Keats
Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone
Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling;
It comes upon us like the glorious pealing
Of the wide spheres -- an everlasting tone.
Sonnet LXXXIV: Farewell to the Glen
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Sweet stream-fed glen, why say farewell to thee
Who far'st so well and find'st for ever smooth
