Poems begining by W
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We Were Four Sisters
© Mikhail Alekseevich Kuzmin
We were four sisters, four sisters were we,
All four of us loved, but had different "becauses:"
One loved because father and mother told her to,
another loved because her lover was rich,
the third loved because he was a famous artist,
and I loved because I fell in love.
Who
© Sylvia Plath
The month of flowering's finished. The fruit's in,
Eaten or rotten. I am all mouth.
October's the month for storage.
Woone Rule
© William Barnes
An' while I zot, wi' thoughtvul mind,
Up where the lwonesome Coombs do wind,
Winter Morning
© James Phillip McAuley
Spring stars glitter in the freezing sky,
Trees on watch are armoured with frost.
In the dark tarn of a mirror a face appears.
Time is moving through displacements.
Where The Mind Is Without Fear
© Rabindranath Tagore
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
William and Helen
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
From heavy dreams fair Helen rose,
And eyed the dawning red:
"Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!
O art thou false or dead?"-
Why Do Ye Call The Poet Lonely
© Archibald Lampman
Why do ye call the poet lonely,
Because he dreams in lonely places?
He is not desolate, but only
Sees, where ye cannot, hidden faces.
What is
© Emily Dickinson
What is"Paradise"
Who live there
Are they "Farmers"
Do they "hoe"
Do they know that this is "Amherst"
And that Iam comingtoo
Wet Weather
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
IT is the English in me that loves the soft, wet weather--
The cloud upon the mountain, the mist upon the sea,
The sea-gull flying low and near with rain upon each feather,
The scent of deep, green woodlands where the buds are breaking free.
Wendover
© Jean Ingelow
Uplifted and lone, set apart with our love
On the crest of a soft swelling down
Cloud shadows that meet on the grass at our feet
Sail on above Wendover town.
What Would They Say? - With original language version
© Alfonsina Storni
Would they go to watch me, covering the sidewalks?
Would they burn me like they burned enchantresses?
Would they ring the bells, calling to mass?
What Is Love?
© Paramahansa Yogananda
Love is the scent with the lotus born.
It is the silent choirs of petals
Singing the winters harmony of uniform beauty.
Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.
It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets - sun and moon lit
Winter at St Andrews
© Robert Fuller Murray
Thus I unto my friend replied,
When, on a chill late autumn morn,
He pointed to the tree, and cried,
`The leaves are off Queen Mary's Thorn!'
Winter Song
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
OH, who would be sad tho' the sky be a-graying,
And meadow and woodlands are empty and bare;
Within and Without: Part V: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
Julian.
A heart that knows what thou canst never know,
Fair angel, blesseth thee, and saith, farewell.
When The Wind Storms By With A Shout
© William Ernest Henley
When the wind storms by with a shout, and the stern sea-caves
Rejoice in the tramp and the roar of onsetting waves,
Then, then, it comes home to the heart that the top of life
Is the passion that burns the blood in the act of strife -
Till you pity the dead down there in their quiet graves.
Wrinkles
© Walter Savage Landor
WHEN Helen first saw wrinkles in her face
(T was when some fifty long had settled there
And intermarried and branchd off awide)
She threw herself upon her couch and wept:
When Youre Bad in Your Inside
© Henry Lawson
I REMARKED that man is saddest, and his heart is filled with woe,
When he hasnt any money, and his pants begin to go;
But I think I was mistaken, and there are many times I find
When you do not care a candle if your pants are gone behind;
For a fellow mostly loses all ambition, hope, and pride,
Whento put the matter mildlyhe is bad in his inside.
