Poems begining by V
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VIa, Veritas Et Vita
© Amado Ruiz de Nervo
Mientras, amarlo todo… y no amar nada,
sonreír cuando hay sol y cuando hay brumas;
cuidar de que en el áspera jornada
no se atrofien las alas, ni oleada
de cieno vil ensucie nuestras plumas.
Vixen
© William Stanley Merwin
Comet of stillness princess of what is over
high note held without trembling without voice without sound
Vespers [In your extended absence, you permit me]
© Louise Gluck
In your extended absence, you permit me
use of earth, anticipating
Venus of the Louvre
© Emma Lazarus
Down the long hall she glistens like a star,
The foam-born mother of Love, transfixed to stone,
Veni Creator
© Alice Meynell
So humble things Thou hast borne for us, O God,
Left'st Thou a path of lowliness untrod?
Vandergast and the Girl
© Louis Simpson
Vandergast to his neighbors—
the grinding of a garage door
and hiss of gravel in the driveway.
Viewing Cac-Co Cavern
© Ho Xuan Huong
Heaven and earth brought forth this rocky mass
its face cut by a deep crevasse
Vita Nova
© Louise Gluck
I remember sounds like that from my childhood,
laughter for no cause, simply because the world is beautiful,
something like that.
VII Mon. September [1742] hath xxx days.
© Stephen C. Foster
The Reverse
Studious of Ease, and fond of humble Things,
Valedictory
© Aldous Huxley
And life recedes, recedes; the curve is bare,
My handkerchief flutters blankly in the air;
And the question rumbles in the void:
Was she aware, was she after all aware?
Venus Verticordia (For a Picture)
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
SHE hath the apple in her hand for thee,
Yet almost in her heart would hold it back;
vegas
© Charles Bukowski
a marvelous description of a gazelle
is hell;
the cross sits like a fly on my window,
my mother’s breath stirs small leaves
in my mind;
Vespers ["Once I believed in you..."]
© Louise Gluck
Once I believed in you; I planted a fig tree.
Here, in Vermont, country
of no summer. It was a test: if the tree lived,
it would mean you existed.
VIII. To the River Itchin, near Winton.
© William Lisle Bowles
ITCHIN, when I behold thy banks again,
Thy crumbling margin, and thy silver breast,
Visitation by Jeffrey Harrison: American Life in Poetry #115 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
Each of the senses has a way of evoking time and place. In this bittersweet poem by Jeffrey Harrison of Massachusetts, birdsong offers reassurance as the speaker copes with loss.
Visitation
Vernal Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
BENEATH the concave of an April sky,
When all the fields with freshest green were dight,
Appeared, in presence of the spiritual eye
Vobiscum Est Iope
© Thomas Campion
When thou must home to shades of underground,
And there arrived, a new admirèd guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,
To hear the stories of thy finished love
From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;
