Poems begining by W
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Words against Lesbia: to Furius and Aurelius
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
Furius and Aurelius, you friends of Catullus,
whether he penetrates farthest India,
What The Sleepless Grandam Thinks
© Nikolay Alekseyevich Nekrasov
All through the cold night, beating wings shadowy
Sweep o'er the church-village poor,--
Only one Grandam a hundred years hoary,
Findeth her slumber no more.
When the Bush Begins to Speak
© Henry Lawson
They know us not in England yet, their pens are overbold;
We're seen in fancy pictures that are fifty years too old.
When You Are Not Surprised
© Conrad Aiken
When you are not surprised, not surprised,
nor leap in imagination from sunlight into shadow
Wisdom.
© Robert Crawford
There are some things in life are very poor,
And some unpriceable: our wisdom is
To know our rubbish and our riches here;
To, as it were, sort out ourselves, and blow
The world's dust off the jewels that we have,
Revealing them.
What Flavour?
© Franklin Pierce Adams
Worthy of flowers and syrups sweet,
O fountain of Bandusian onyx,
Tomorrow shall a goatling's bleat
Mix with the sizz of thy carbonics.
Written At Dr. Mead's House In Ormond--Street, To Mrs. Mead.
© Mary Barber
Books, Pictures, Statues, here we find,
And each excelling in their Kind.
Mead's Taste in ev'ry Thing we view;
But chiefly in his Choice of You.
Written On A Stormy Night
© George MacDonald
O wild and dark! a night hath found me now
Wherein I mingle with that element
We Who Stay At Home
© Edgar Albert Guest
When you were just our little boy, on many a night we crept
Unto your cot and watched o'er you, and all the time you slept.
We tucked the covers round your form and smoothed your pillow, too,
And sometimes stooped and kissed your cheeks, but that you never knew.
Just as we came to you back then through many a night and day,
Our spirits now shall come to you--to kiss and watch and pray.
Wild Peace
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Blue noon shines o'er the sea;
Waves break starry on the sand;
Lights and sounds and scents come free
On the radiant air of the land.
"Why do the clock-hoppers sing"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Why do the clock-hopperssing,
And fever rustle
And dry stove crackle --
It is red silk burning.
Written On The Day Of My Aunt's Funeral
© Charles Lamb
Thou too art dead, ---! very kind
Hast thou been to me in my childish days,
Wattle And Myrtle
© James Lister Cuthbertson
GOLD of the tangled wilderness of wattle,
Break in the lone green hollows of the hills,
What Man Dare Say?
© George Ade
What man dare say that he is quite immune
From charms and spells that ev'ry girl possesses ?
What Would It Be?
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Now what were the words of Jesus,
And what would He pause and say,
Woman To Man
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
You do but jest, sir, and you jest not well,
How could the hand be enemy of the arm,
Or seed and sod be rivals! How could light
Feel jealousy of heat, plant of the leaf
