Poems begining by W
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When Erin Awakes
© William Percy French
And as of old, our headlands bold
Still front the raging sea,
So may our band united stand,
As fearless and as free.
Written In A Diary
© Frances Anne Kemble
They who go down to the relentless deep,
After long horrible death of cold and drought
Women In Love
© Donald Justice
It always comes, and when it comes they know.
To will it is enough to bring them there.
The knack is this, to fasten and not let go.
What I Have Seen #1
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I saw a mother give wine to her boy-
The rain-drops fall and fall:
The pride of his parents, a household joy,
A mother's blessing, her all.
Whispered Into Afternoon
© Georg Trakl
Sun of autumn, thin and shy
And fruit drops off the trees,
Blue silence fills the peace
Of a tardy afternoons sky.
We Don't Know How To Say Goodbye
© Anna Akhmatova
We don't know how to say good-bye
We wander on, shoulder by shoulder.
Already the sun is going down.
You're moody, I am your shadow.
With The Quandongs
© Roderic Quinn
IF you happen to visit the Western Plains
When the summer is young and green,
You can see the green of the quandong leaves
With the quandong fruit between.
Winter Song
© George MacDonald
They were parted then at last?
Was it duty, or force, or fate?
Or did a worldly blast
Blow-to the meeting-gate?
Written at Midnight
© Samuel Rogers
While thro' the broken pane the tempest sighs,
And my step falters on the faithless floor,
Shades of departed joys around me rise,
With many a face that smiles on me no more;
With many a voice that thrills of transport gave,
Now silent as the grass that tufts their grave!
William Upson
© Julia A Moore
Come all good people, far and near,
Oh, come and see what you can hear,
It's of a young man, true and brave,
Who is now sleeping in his grave.
Written in the Highlands of Scotland
© Samuel Rogers
Blue was the loch, the clouds were gone,
Ben-Lomond in his glory shone,
When, Luss, I left thee; when the breeze
Bore me from thy silver sands,
Wild Europe
© Katharine Lee Bates
WILD Europe, red with Woden's dreadful dew,
On fire with Loki's hate, more savage than
Waking
© Frances Anne Kemble
Before my senses or my soul awake,
Sorrow begins to stir within my heart;
Keen anguish dawns before the day doth break;
Ere fluttering birds chirp faintly towards the east,
What Of The Day
© John Greenleaf Whittier
A SOUND of tumult troubles all the air,
Like the low thunders of a sultry sky
Far-rolling ere the downright lightnings glare;
The hills blaze red with warnings; foes draw nigh,
