Poems begining by W
/ page 112 of 113 /
Water, is taught by thirst.
© Emily Dickinson
Water, is taught by thirst.
Land -- by the Oceans passed.
Transport -- by throe --
Peace -- by its battles told --
Love, by Memorial Mold --
Birds, by the Snow.
We lose -- because we win
© Emily Dickinson
We lose -- because we win --
Gamblers -- recollecting which
Toss their dice again!
Wild Nights -- Wild Nights!
© Emily Dickinson
Wild Nights -- Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
We never know how high we are
© Emily Dickinson
We never know how high we are
Till we are asked to rise
And then if we are true to plan
Our statures touch the skies --
Wallace Stevens On His Way To Work
© David Wagoner
He would leave early and walk slowly
As if balancing books
On the way to school, already expecting
To be tardy once again and heavy
Why?
© Spike Milligan
American Detectives
Never remove their hats
When investigating murders
In other people's flats.
When I Suspected
© Spike Milligan
There will be a time when it will end.
Be it parting
Be it death
So each passing minute with you
Who Said It Was Simple
© Audre Lorde
and sit here wondering
which me will survive
all these liberations.
Walls
© Constantine Cavafy
Without consideration, without pity, without shame
they have built great and high walls around me.And now I sit here and despair.
I think of nothing else: this fate gnaws at my mind;for I had many things to do outside.
Ah why did I not pay attention when they were building the walls.But I never heard any noise or sound of builders.
Waiting For The Barbarians
© Constantine Cavafy
Because the barbarians are coming today.
What laws can the senators make now?
Once the barbarians are here, they'll do the legislating.
Walt Whitman
© Edwin Arlington Robinson
The master-songs are ended? Rather say
No songs are ended that are ever sung,
And that no names are dead names. When we write
Men's letters on proud marble or on sand,
We write them there forever.
Why He Was There
© Edwin Arlington Robinson
Calm as he was of old when we were young,
He sat there gazing at the pallid flame
Before him. "And how far will this go on?"
I thought. He felt the failure of my tongue,
And smiled: "I was not here until you came;
And I shall not be here when you are gone."
When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly
© Oliver Goldsmith
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
Woak Hill
© Ingeborg Bachmann
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreaden
Green-ruddy in hedges,
Bezide the red doust o' the ridges,
A-dried at Woak Hill;
White blossoms of the pear
© Yosa Buson
White blossoms of the pear
and a woman in moonlight
reading a letter.
Wishes, For Alix
© James A. Emanuel
Always searching, may you find;
if you run-down,
may you wind;
every year
Wife Killer
© Vernon Scannell
He killed his wife at night.
He had tried once or twice in the daylight
But she refused to die.
Where Shall We Go?
© Vernon Scannell
Waiting for her in the usual bar
He finds she's late again.
Impatience frets at him,
But not the fearful, half-sweet pain he knew
So long ago.
