Poems begining by W
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Wraiths
© Siegfried Sassoon
They know not the green leaves;
In whose earth-haunting dream
Dimly the forest heaves,
And voiceless goes the stream.
Wirers
© Siegfried Sassoon
Pass it along, the wiring partys going out
And yawning sentries mumble, Wirers going out.
Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud,
They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood.
Wisdom
© Siegfried Sassoon
When Wisdom tells me that the worlds a speck
Lost on the shoreless blue of Gods To-Day...
I smile, and think, For every man his way:
The worlds my ship, and Im alone on deck!
What the Captain Said at the Point-to-Point
© Siegfried Sassoon
Ive had a good bump round; my little horse
Refused the brook first time,
Then jumped it prime;
And ran out at the double,
Winter Song
© Katherine Mansfield
Rain and wind, and wind and rain.
Will the Summer come again?
Rain on houses, on the street,
Wetting all the people's feet,
Though they run with might and main.
Rain and wind, and wind and rain.
When I was a Bird
© Katherine Mansfield
I climbed up the karaka tree
Into a nest all made of leaves
But soft as feathers.
I made up a song that went on singing all by itself
Waves
© Katherine Mansfield
I saw a tiny God
Sitting
Under a bright blue umbrella
That had white tassels
We Real Cool
© Gwendolyn Brooks
We real cool. We
Left School. WeLurk late. We
Strike straight. WeSing sin. We
Thin gin. WeJazz June. We
Wives in the Sere
© Thomas Hardy
I Never a careworn wife but shows,
If a joy suffuse her,
Something beautiful to those
Patient to peruse her,
Winter in Durnover Field
© Thomas Hardy
Scene.--A wide stretch of fallow ground recently sown with wheat, and
frozen to iron hardness. Three large birds walking about thereon,
and wistfully eyeing the surface. Wind keen from north-east: sky a
dull grey.
When I Set Out For Lyonnesse
© Thomas Hardy
When I set out for Lyonnesse,
A hundred miles away,
The rime was on the spray,
And starlight lit my lonesomeness
When I set out for Lyonnesse
A hundred miles away.
Waiting Both
© Thomas Hardy
A star looks down at me,
And says: "Here I and you
Stand each in our degree:
What do you mean to do,
Weathers
© Thomas Hardy
This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly;
Wind Chill
© Linda Pastan
The door of winter
is frozen shut, and like the bodies
of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever
the cold road has taken them. How ceremonious snow is,
What We Want
© Linda Pastan
What we want
is never simple.
We move among the things
we thought we wanted:
What Has Happened?
© Bertolt Brecht
The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced.
The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago
about tithes.
The generals are putting on civvies and looking like bank clerks.
Written in a Volume of the Comtesse de Noailles
© Alan Seeger
Be my companion under cool arcades
That frame some drowsy street and dazzling square
Beyond whose flowers and palm-tree promenades
White belfries burn in the blue tropic air.
With a Copy of Shakespeare's Sonnets on Leaving College
© Alan Seeger
As one of some fat tillage dispossessed,
Weighing the yield of these four faded years,
If any ask what fruit seems loveliest,
What lasting gold among the garnered ears, --
Whispering in Wattle -Boughs
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
OH, gaily sings the bird! and the wattle-boughs are stirred
And rustled by the scented breath of Spring;
Oh, the dreary wistful longing! Oh, the faces that are thronging!
Oh, the voices that are vaguely whispering!
