Poems begining by W
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Written Upon The Rocks At Tunbridge,
© Mary Barber
Hither, amongst the Crouds, that shun
The smoaky Town, and sultry Sun,
In cooling Springs to seek for Health,
Or throw away superfluous Wealth,
A Native of Hibernia came,
Thus writ her Thoughts, but not her Name.
What Have We All Forgotten?
© Henry Lawson
WHAT have we all forgotten, at the break of the seventh year?
With a nation born to the ages and a Bad Time borne on its bier!
Public robbing, and lying that death cannot erase
Private strife and deceptionCover the bad dead face!
Drinking, gambling and madnessCover and bear it away
But what have we all forgotten at the dawn of the seventh day?
Wavy
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
I thought that I had wavy hair
Until I shaved. Instead,
I find that I have straight hair
And a very wavy head.
Watching Unto God In The Night Season (2)
© William Cowper
Season of my purest pleasure,
Sealer of observing eyes!
'Ware Wire!
© Jessie Pope
WHEN the beagles are running like steam,
When the plough is as sticky as glue,
When The Cows Come Home The Milk Is Coming
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
When the cows come home the milk is coming,
Honey's made while the bees are humming;
When the Leaves Fall
© James Brunton Stephens
WHEN the leaves fall off the trees
Everybody walks on them :
Once they had a time of ease
High above, and every breeze
Used to stay and talk to them.
What's The Pope Do?
© Giuseppe Gioacchino Belli
What's the pope do? Drinks, and takes a nap;
looks out the window, has a bite to eat,
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt (fragment)
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
When Hope but made Tranquillity be felt-
A Flight of Hopes for ever on the wing
But made Tranquillity a conscious Thing-
And wheeling round and round in sportive coil
Fann'd the calm air upon the brow of Toil-
Wanderlied
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
O, WEST of all the westward roads that woo ye to their winding,
O, south of all the southward ways that call ye to the sea,
There's a little lonely garden that would pay ye for the finding,
With a fairy-ring within it and an old thorn tree.
"What shall I say to thee, my spirit, so soon dejected"
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What shall I say to thee, my spirit, so soon dejected,
Unaccountably conquered, where thou seemed'st strong?
Life, that, yesterday, the sun's own glory reflected,
Darkened now, like a train of captives, crawls along.
Written In Very Early Youth
© William Wordsworth
CALM is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
Wellington
© Charles Harpur
Great captain if you will! great Duke! great Slave!
Great minion of the crown! - but a great man
"Why does she put me to many indignities"
© Lesbia Harford
Why does she put me to many indignities,
Shifts to prevent myself thinking upon her,
My golden Katie, who loveth not kisses?
I wear my new dresses and put on silk stockings,
All to prevent myself thinking upon her,
Who is more lovely than fair river-lilies.
Whyte-Melville
© William Henry Ogilvie
With lightest of hands on the bridle, with Highest of
hearts in the dance,
