Poems begining by W

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You say I do not love you!--Tell me why,
When I have gazed a little on your face,
And then gone forth into the world of men,
A beauty, neither of the Earth or Sky,
A glamour, that transforms each common place,
Attends my spirit then?

Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Women have loved before as I love now;

At least, in lively chronicles of the past

Winter Streams

© Bliss William Carman

NOW the little rivers go
Muffled safely under snow,
And the winding meadow streams
Murmur in their wintry dreams,

What We All Think

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

THAT age was older once than now,
In spite of locks untimely shed,
Or silvered on the youthful brow;
That babes make love and children wed.

Wadin' In De Crick

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

DAYS git wa'm and wa'mah,

School gits mighty dull,

With a Valentine

© Louis Zukofsky

Hear her
(Clear mirror)
Care.
His error.
In her care --
Is clear.

Wind-Jammer's Song (1845 Clipper Days)

© Harry Kemp

All hands on deck, below there!
The storm is coming soon,
The clouds tramp on in panic
Across the swirling moon.

While Yet These Tears

© Louise Labe

While yet these tears have power to flow

For hours for ever past away;

Written At Sea

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

What is my quarrel with thee, beautiful sea,
That thus I cannot love thy waves or thee,
Or hear thy voice but it tormenteth me?

Wreath For A Bridal

© Sylvia Plath

What though green leaves only witness
Such pact as is made once only; what matter
That owl voice sole yes, while cows utter
Low moos of approve; let sun surpliced in brightness
Stand stock still to laud these mated ones
Whose stark act all coming double luck joins.

When Some Day

© Hovhannes Toumanian

Sweet comrade, when you come some day
To gaze upon my tomb,
And scattered all around it see
Bright flowers in freshest bloom,

Woman On The Field Of Battle

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Where hath not a woman stood,
Strong in affection's might? a reed, upborne
By an o'er mastering current!

Worth While

© Edgar Albert Guest

He doesn't care that I'm not rich,

Or that I'm poorly dressed,

We Go No More To The Forest

WE go no more to the forest,

The rimus are all cut down.

Written in a Flower Book, of my own Colouring, designed for Lady Plymouth

Debitae nymphis opifex coronae.-Hor.
Imitation.
Constructor of the tributary wreath
For rural maids.

Winter Solstice

© Anonymous

When you startle awake in the dark morning
heart pounding breathing fast
sitting bolt upright staring into
dark whirlpool black hole
feeling its suction