Poems begining by W
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W'en I Gits Home
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
It's moughty tiahsome layin' 'roun'
Dis sorrer-laden earfly groun',
An' oftentimes I thinks, thinks I,
'T would be a sweet t'ing des to die,
An' go 'long home.
Woman To Man
© Judith Wright
The eyeless labourer in the night,
the selfless, shapeless seed I hold,
builds for its resurrection day---
silent and swift and deep from sight
foresees the unimagined light.
When Thou Hast Spent The Lingering Day
© George Gascoigne
WHEN thou hast spent the lingering day in pleasure and delght,
Or after toil and weary way, dost seek to rest at night,
We Are Seven
© William Wordsworth
-A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
When Spring Goes By
© Duncan Campbell Scott
The winds that on the uplands softly lie,
Grow keener where the ice is lingering still
Women's Eyes.
© Robert Crawford
The eyes of women, those star-tabernacles where
Love keeps his old and holy things, inspired
With beauty and the reverence that leads
Men to perfection.
Written With A Slate Pencil On A Stone, On The Side Of The Mountain Of Black Comb
© William Wordsworth
STAY, bold Adventurer; rest awhile thy limbs
On this commodious Seat! for much remains
Of hard ascent before thou reach the top
Of this huge Eminence,--from blackness named,
What Sayest Thou, Traveller
© Paul Verlaine
What sayst thou, traveller, of all thou saw'st afar?
On every tree hangs boredom, ripening to its fall,
Didst gather it, thou smoking yon thy sad cigar,
Black, casting an incongruous shadow on the wall?
Wiltshire Downs
© Andrew Young
The cuckoos double note
Loosened like bubbles from a drowning throat
Floats through the air
In mockery of pipit, lark and stare.
What Rabbi Jehosha Said
© James Russell Lowell
Rabbi Jehosha had the skill
To know that Heaven is in God's will;
And doing that, though for a space
One heart-beat long, may win a grace
As full of grandeur and of glow
As Princes of the Chariot know.
With A Copy of: "In Memoriam"
© George MacDonald
Dear friend, you love the poet's song,
And here is one for your regard.
You know the "melancholy bard,"
Whose grief is wise as well as strong;
Why Is It?
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Why is it so, Dear Prince of Peace,
That wrongs to Negroes never cease?
Are they disloyal to thy name,
And thus are punished for the same?
Wild Ass
© Padraic Colum
THE Wild Ass lounges, legs struck out
In vagrom unconcern:
The tombs o Achaemenian kings
Are for those hooves to spurn.
Welcome To The Grand Duke Alexis
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SHADOWED so long by the storm-cloud of danger,
Thou whom the prayers of an empire defend,
Welcome, thrice welcome! but not as a stranger,
Come to the nation that calls thee its friend!
Win' That 'Blaws
© George MacDonald
Win' that blaws the simmer plaid
Ower the hie hill's shoothers laid,
Why The Spring Is Late
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
To Miss Eva Russell.
The spring time is deaf to our pleading,
What Look Hath She
© Mary Colborne-Veel
What look hath she,
What majestie,
That must so high approve her?
What graces move
That I so love,
That I so greatly love her?
