Poems begining by W
/ page 100 of 113 /Whitelight
© Carl Sandburg
YOUR whitelight flashes the frost to-night
Moon of the purple and silent west.
Remember me one of your lovers of dreams.
White Hands
© Carl Sandburg
FOR the second time in a year this lady with the white hands is brought to the west room second floor of a famous sanatorium.
Her husband is a cornice manufacturer in an Iowa town and the lady has often read papers on Victorian poets before the local literary club.
Yesterday she washed her hands forty seven times during her waking hours and in her sleep moaned restlessly attempting to clean imaginary soiled spots off her hands.
Now the head physician touches his chin with a crooked forefinger.
Who am I?
© Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Waiting
© Carl Sandburg
TODAY I will let the old boat stand
Where the sweep of the harbor tide comes in
To the pulse of a far, deep-steady sway.
And I will rest and dream and sit on the deck
Watching the world go by
And take my pay for many hard days gone I remember.
We are the time. We are the famous
© Jorge Luis Borges
We are the river and we are that greek
that looks himself into the river. His reflection
changes into the waters of the changing mirror,
into the crystal that changes like the fire.
Words, Wide Night
© Carol Ann Duffy
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night
and the distance between us, I am thinking of you.
The room is turning slowly away from the moon.
White and Green
© Amy Lowell
Hey! My daffodil-crowned,
Slim and without sandals!
As the sudden spurt of flame upon darkness
So my eyeballs are startled with you,
Wind
© Amy Lowell
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Winter-Time
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Windy Nights
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Where Go the Boats?
© Robert Louis Stevenson
Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
When The Sun Come After Rain
© Robert Louis Stevenson
WHEN the sun comes after rain
And the bird is in the blue,
The girls go down the lane
Two by two.
What Man May Learn, What Man May Do
© Robert Louis Stevenson
WHAT man may learn, what man may do,
Of right or wrong of false or true,
While, skipper-like, his course he steers
Through nine and twenty mingled years,
Half misconceived and half forgot,
So much I know and practise not.
Why Should A Foolish Marriage Vow
© John Dryden
Why should a foolish marriage vow,
Which long ago was made,
Oblige us to each other now
When passion is decay'd?
Weariness
© George William Russell
WHERE are now the dreams divine,
Fires that lit the dawning soul,
As the ruddy colours shine
Through an opal aureole?
Whom We Worship
© George William Russell
I WOULD not have the love of lips and eyes,
The ancient ways of love:
But in my heart I built a Paradise,
A nest there for the dove.
Warning
© George William Russell
PURE at heart we wander now:
Comrade on the quest divine,
Turn not from the stars your brow
That your eyes may rest on mine.
When
© George William Russell
WHEN mine hour is come
Let no teardrop fall
And no darkness hover
Round me where I lie.
Waiting
© George William Russell
WHEN the dawn comes forth I wonder
Will our sad, sad hearts awaken,
And the grief we laboured under
From the new-in-joy be shaken?
Winter
© George William Russell
A DIAMOND glow of winter oer the world:
Amid the chilly halo nigh the west
Flickers a phantom violet bloom unfurled
Dim on the twilights breast.