Poems begining by W
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Why, My Heart, Do We Love Her So?
© William Ernest Henley
Why, my heart, do we love her so?
(Geraldine, Geraldine!)
Woodland Peace
© George Meredith
Sweet as Eden is the air,
And Eden-sweet the ray.
No Paradise is lost for them
Who foot by branching root and stem,
And lightly with the woodland share
The change of night and day.
What Calls Us by David Bengtson: American Life in Poetry #42 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
Here is a poem by David Bengtson, a Minnesotan, about the simple pleasure of walking through deep snow to the mailbox to see what's arrived. But, of course, the pleasure is not only in picking up the mail with its surprises, but in the complete experience—being fully alive to the clean cold air and the sound of the wind around the mailbox door.
Whom should I choose for my Judge? (fragment)
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
What is the meed of thy Song? 'Tis the ceaseless, the thousandfold Echo
Which from the welcoming Hearts of the Pure repeats and prolongs it,
Each with a different Tone, compleat or in musical fragments.
Written In The Conclusion Of A Letter To Mr. Tickel,
© Mary Barber
Eternal King, is there one Hour,
To make me greatly bless'd?
When shall I have it in my Pow'r
To succour the Distress'd?
When Love Goes
© Sara Teasdale
O mother, I am sick of love,
I cannot laugh nor lift my head,
My bitter dreams have broken me,
I would my love were dead.
Winter Dream
© Aldous Huxley
And oh the April, April of straight soft hair,
Falling smooth as the mountain water and brown;
The April of little leaves unblinded,
Of rosy nipples and innocence
And the blue languor of weary eyelids.
William Francis Bartlett
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Oh, well may Essex sit forlorn
Beside her sea-blown shore;
Her well beloved, her noblest born,
Is hers in life no more!
When Life Is But A Round Of Crushing Care
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
When life is but a round of crushing care
And, a great heap of stones, lies heavy on us,
There suddenly, God knows how, why, upon us
A joyous mood descends… Of balmy air
A breath comes from the past and, o'er us drifting,
Invades the heart, its fearful burden lifting.
War And PeaceA Poem
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou, whose lov'd presence and benignant smile
Has beam'd effulgence on this favour'd isle;
Thou! the fair seraph, in immortal state,
Thron'd on the rainbow, heaven's emblazon'd gate;
Thou! whose mild whispers in the summer-breeze
Control the storm, and undulate the seas;
When Underneath the Brown Dead Grass
© Henry Kendall
When underneath the brown dead grass
My weary bones are laid,
What Bird So Sings
© Thomas Dekker
What bird so sings, yet so does wail,
'Tis Philomel the Nightingale;
Worth And The Worthy
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
If thou anything hast, let me have it,-I'll pay what is proper;
If thou anything art, let us our spirits exchange.
What The Shutter Said As She Lay By The Fire
© Padraic Colum
I'd never grudge them the weight of their lands
If I had only the good red gold
To huggle between my breast and my hands!
Wine Of The Fairies
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I am drunk with the honey wine
Of the moon-unfolded eglantine,
Which fairies catch in hyacinth bowls.
The bats, the dormice, and the moles
Want To Be Whur Mother Is
© James Whitcomb Riley
"Want to be whur mother is! Want to be whur mother is!"
Jeemses Rivers! won't some one ever shet that howl o' his?
That-air yellin' drives me wild!
Cain't none of ye stop the child?
Want jer Daddy? "Naw." Gee whizz!
"Want to be whur mother is!"
War
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled
Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world.
See! on yon heath what countless victims lie,
Hark! what loud shrieks ascend through yonder sky;
Written In Petrarchs House At Arqua, Among The Euganean Hills
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Petrarch! I would that there might be
In this thy household sanctuary
No visible monument of thee:
