Poems begining by S

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Sweet swelling lip, well may'st thou swell in pride,
Since best wits think it wit thee to admire;
Nature's praise, Virtue's stall, Cupid's cold fire,
Whence words, not words but heav'nly graces, slide;

Spring Love

© Francis Ledwidge

I saw her coming through the flowery grass,
Round her swift ankles butterfly and bee
Blent loud and silent wings ; I saw her pass
Where foam-bows shivered on the sunny sea.

Sonnet XIII "I Thank You, Kind and Best Beloved Friend"

© Henry Timrod

I thank you, kind and best belov
"ed friend,

With the same thanks one murmurs to a sister,

Snow

© Viggo Stuckenberg

It is a long way, a long way away in the land where all the Fairy Tales happen.

Out on a flat, snow covered, endless barren field squats a tumbledown hut, and in the hut's only room sits a bent old man breathing on the ice on the windowpane. He is staring out over the lonely snow-plain which is empty, cold and trackless, while and sterile all the way to the frost-blue clouds on the horizon. The old man's breath spreads like thin steam over the pane, and freezes. The frost creaks in the woodwork. The cold steals in from outside through cracks and chinks, and long icicles hang down from the eaves like a lattice in front of the window.

Songs of the Pixies

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I.
Whom the untaught Shepherds call
Pixies in their madrigal,
Fancy's children, here we dwell:

Spring

© John Hall Wheelock

The air is full of dawn and spring;

Outside the room I see

Spleen (I)

© Charles Baudelaire

Pluviôse, irrité contre la ville entière,
De son urne à grands flots verse un froid ténébreux
Aux pâles habitants du voisin cimetière
Et la mortalité sur les faubourgs brumeux.

Sonnet XVI: Happy In Sleep

© Samuel Daniel

Happy in sleep, waking content to languish,

Embracing clouds by night; in daytime, mourn;

So that you will hear me

© Pablo Neruda

So that you will hear me
my words
sometimes grow thin
as the tracks of the gulls on the beaches.

Sonnet. Written In Answer To A Sonnet By J. H. Reynolds

© John Keats

Blue! 'Tis the life of heaven,--the domain
Of Cynthia,--the wide palace of the sun,--
The tent of Hesperus, and all his train,--
The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun.

Signs Of Winter

© John Clare

The cat runs races with her tail. The dog

Leaps oer the orchard hedge and knarls the grass.

Sonnet IX: Can It Be Right to Give

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Can it be right to give what I can give?

To let thee sit beneath the fall of tears

Summer Woodlands

© Theocritus

He courteous bade us on soft beds recline,
Of lentesch and young branches of the vine;
Poplars and elms above their foliage spread,
Lent a cool shade, and waved the breezy head.

Sketch Of A Political Character

Would that some call he could not choose but heed--
Of private passion or of public need--
At last might sting to life that slothful power,
And snare him into greatness for an hour!

Summer Night

NOW sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;

Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;

© John Donne

Sir; though (I thanke God for it) I do hate

Perfectly all this towne, yet there's one state

© Sylvia Plath

The hills step off into whiteness.
People or stars
Regard me sadly, I disappoint them.

Stanzas Written On The Road Between Florence And Pisa

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;
The days of our youth are the days of our glory;
And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty
Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.

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