Poems begining by W
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Wash Lowry's Reminiscence
© James Whitcomb Riley
And you're the poet of this concern?
I've seed your name in print
Why Should I Be Bitter
© Saigyo
Why should I be bitter
About someone who was
A complete stranger
Until a certain moment
In a day that has passed.
Women
© Margaret Widdemer
YOU fret and grieve and turn about
To make this world and living out,
With "This is so" and "That is so"
Ah, sirs, we learned it long ago!
Will
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
YOUR face, my boy, when six months old,
We propped you laughing in a chair,
And the sun-artist caught the gold
Which rippled o'er your waving hair!
Written Christmas Day 1797
© Charles Lamb
I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone!
Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend,
Westward
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I found my Love among the fern. She slept.
My shadow stole across her, as I stept
More lightly and slowly, seeing her pillowed so
In the short--turfed and shelving green hollow
Wildflowers And Hot-House Plants
© Henrik Johan Ibsen
"GOOD Heavens, man, what a freak of taste!
What blindness to form and feature!
Weighing The Baby
© Ethel Lynn Eliot Beers
"How many pounds does the baby weigh -
Baby who came but a month ago?
How many pounds from the crowning curl
To the rosy point of the restless toe?"
What Makes An Artist
© Edgar Albert Guest
We got to talking art one day, discussing in a general way
How some can match with brush and paint the glory of a tree,
And some in stone can catch the things of which the dreamy poet sings,
While others seem to have no way to tell the joys they see.
We don't cryTim and I
© Emily Dickinson
We don't cryTim and I,
We are far too grand
But we bolt the door tight
To prevent a friend
"Whenever I think of you, you are alone"
© Lesbia Harford
Whenever I think of you, you are alone,
Shut by yourself between
Great walls of stone.
There is a stool, I think, and a table there,
Wee Willie Gray
© Robert Burns
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an doublet,
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an doublet,
"We climbed that hill"
© Lesbia Harford
We climbed that hill,
The road flushed red in pride
At being beauty's boundary. Either side
Stretched beauty, beauty ever, beauty still.
'Where Art Thou Come?'
© Francis Thompson
'Friend, whereto art thou come?' Thus Verity;
Of each that to the world's sad Olivet
Weltschmertz
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
You ask why I am sad to-day,
I have no cares, no griefs, you say?
Ah, yes, 't is true, I have no grief--
But--is there not the falling leaf?
Wortermelon Time
© James Whitcomb Riley
Old wortermelon time is a-comin' round again,
And they ain't no man a-livin' any tickleder'n me,
Fer the way I hanker after wortermelons is a sin--
Which is the why and wharefore, as you can plainly see.
When The Great Gray Ships Come In
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
To eastward ringing, to westward winging, o'er mapless miles of sea,
On winds and tides the gospel rides that the furthermost isles are free;
When I Love
© Nizar Qabbani
When I love
I feel that I am the king of time
I possess the earth and everything on it
and ride into the sun upon my horse.
Writin' Back To The Home-Folks
© James Whitcomb Riley
My dear old friends--It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
