Poems begining by W
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Winds Of Wrath
© Gamaliel Bradford
Silly little bird,
Singing of its love,
Sang and never heard
Winds of wrath above.
Will, The Maniac
© Washington Allston
HARK! what wild sound is on the breeze?
'Tis Will, at evening fall
Who sings to yonder waving trees
That shade his prison wall.
Winding All My Life About Thee
© Mathilde Blind
Winding all my life about thee,
Let me lay my lips on thine;
What is all the world without thee,
Mine -oh mine!
When June Is Past, The Fading Rose
© Thomas Carew
Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose;
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers as in their causes, sleep.
What Chris'mas Fetched The Wigginses
© James Whitcomb Riley
Wintertime, er Summertime,
Of late years I notice I'm,
We've Had A Letter From The Boy
© Edgar Albert Guest
We've had a letter from the boy,
And oh, the gladness and the joy
We Are Coming, Sister Mary
© Henry Clay Work
We are coming sister Mary,
We are coming bye and bye,
Be ready sister Mary,
For the time is drawing nigh.
Wyoming
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
I.
THOU com'st, in beauty, on my gaze at last,
"On Susquehannah's side, fair Wyoming!"
Image of many a dream, in hours long past,
Woodnotes
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
II
As sunbeams stream through liberal space
And nothing jostle or displace,
So waved the pine-tree through my thought
And fanned the dreams it never brought.
Winter-Thought
© Archibald Lampman
These are the emblems of pure pleasures flown,
I scarce can think of pleasure without these.
Even to dream of them is to disown
The cold forlorn midwinter reveries,
Lulled with the perfume of old hopes new-blown,
No longer dreams, but dear realities.
Winter Days
© Henry Abbey
Now comes the graybeard of the north:
The forests bare their rugged breasts
With Three Flowers
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Herewith I send you three pressed withered flowers:
This one was white, with golden star; this, blue
Written On A Ladys Fan
© Henry James Pye
In ancient times when like La Mancha's Knight
The adventurous Hero sallied forth to fight,
Waiting and Wishing
© Henry Kendall
I loiter by this surging sea,
Here, by this surging, sooming sea,
Wardour Castle
© William Lisle Bowles
If rich designs of sumptuous art may please,
Or Nature's loftier views, august and old,
Water-Party On The Beaulieu River, In The New Forest
© William Lisle Bowles
I thought 'twas a toy of the fancy, a dream
That leads with illusion the senses astray,
And I sighed with delight as we stole down the stream,
While the sun, as he smiled on our sail, seemed to say,
Rejoice in my light, ere it fade fast away!
When my time is come
© John Le Gay Brereton
When my time is come to die,
I would shun the decent gloom,
Whispered word and weeping eye,
Fitful hum of knowing fly
Questing through the darkened room.
Wild Oats
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I saw a fair youth, with a brow broad and white,
And an eye that was beaming with intellect's light:
And his face seemed to glow with the wealth of his mind;
And I said, "He will grace and ennoble mankind:
He is Nature's own king."
