Poems begining by W
/ page 14 of 113 /
"When Spring Comes Back To England"
© Alfred Noyes
When Spring comes back to England
And crowns her brows with May,
We too shall Sleep
© Archibald Lampman
Not, not for thee,
Belovèd child, the burning grasp of life
Shall bruise the tender soul. The noise, and strife,
And clamor of midday thou shalt not see;
Where Home Was
© Augusta Davies Webster
'TWAS yesterday; 'twas long ago:
And for this flaunting grimy street,
Wings
© Katharine Lee Bates
GRAY gulls that wheeled and dipped and rose
Where tossing crests like Alpine snows
Winter Evening
© Georg Trakl
When snow falls against the window,
Long sounds the evening bell…
For so many has the table
Been prepared, the house set in order.
What I Call Living
© Edgar Albert Guest
The miser thinks he's living when he's hoarding up his gold;
The soldier calls it living when he's doing something bold;
The sailor thinks it living to be tossed upon the sea,
And upon this vital subject no two of us agree.
But I hold to the opinion, as I walk my way along,
That living's made of laughter and good-fellowship and song.
Work, Neighbor, Work!
© Louisa May Alcott
"Work, neighbor, work!
Do not stop to play;
Wander far and wide,
Gather all you may.
Welcome To Winter
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
NOW, with wild and windy roar,
Stalwart Winter comes once more,--
O'er our roof-tree thunders loud,
And from edges of black cloud
Woodspring Abbey
© William Lisle Bowles
These walls were built by men who did a deed
Of blood:--terrific conscience, day by day,
When Horses Die
© Velimir Khlebnikov
When horses die, they breathe
When grasses die, they wither,
When suns die, they go out,
When people die, they sing songs.
What turned the Germans Back
© Katharine Tynan
WHAT turned the German myriads back
From Paris whither they had won?
The sword dropped from their hold grown slack;
Children of Attila the Hun,
Like Attila, went backward driven
By a young shepherdess of Heaven.
Words spoken to Pei Ti
© Wang Wei
How can we break out of the net,
Be free of all this sound and dust,
Swinging a thorn-branch, find the way
Back to Peach Blossom Spring?
When Albani Sang
© William Henry Drummond
Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan
morning not long ago,
We never know how high we are (1176)
© 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
When Love was Born
© Sara Teasdale
When Love was born I think he lay
Right warm on Venus' breast,
And whiles he smiled and whiles would play
And whiles would take his rest.
With Flowers
© Francis Ledwidge
These have more language than my song,
Take them and let them speak for me.
I whispered them a secret thing
Down the green lanes of Allary.
What Man Is There of You?
© George MacDonald
The homely words how often read!
How seldom fully known!
"Which father of you, asked for bread,
Would give his son a stone?"
Witchcraft: New Style
© Lascelles Abercrombie
The first voice, in that silent crowd, was hers,
Her light snickering laugh, as she stood there
Pausing, scanning the sawdust at her feet.
Then she switcht round and faced the positive man
Whose strong 'She cannot do it!' all still felt
Huskily shouting in their guilty ears.
