Poems begining by W
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When the Sultan Goes to Ispahan
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
When the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far
As the place where the clustered palm-trees are,
Water-Weeds
© Arthur Symons
What is this that flies with night
On the wings of the night-birds?
Ghost of love, endless delight,
Night's inarticulate words
Come, where water-weeds are cool,
Dip your fingers in the pool,
When The Two Sisters Go To Fetch Water
© Rabindranath Tagore
WHEN the two sisters go to fetch water, they come to this spot and they smile.
They must be aware of somebody who stands behind the trees whenever they go to fetch water.
Written After Leaving West Point
© Frances Anne Kemble
The hours are past, love,
Oh, fled they not too fast, love!
Those happy hours, when down the mountain-side,
We saw the rosy mists of morning glide,
We put the urn aboard ship
© Sappho
This is the dust of little
Timas who unmarried was led
into Persephone's dark bedroom
Work Shy by Alex Phillips: American Life in Poetry #79 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
The news coverage of Hurricane Katrina gave America a vivid look at our poor and powerless neighbors. Here Alex Phillips of Massachusetts condenses his observations of our country's underclass into a wise, tough little poem.
Written In A Seat At Stoke Park, Near The Vicararage-House, Then Inhabited By The Author, And Comman
© Henry James Pye
Not with more joy from the loud tempest's roar,
The dangerous billow, and more dangerous shore,
When I Have Passed Away
© Claude McKay
When I have passed away and am forgotten,
And no one living can recall my face,
When under alien sod my bones lie rotten
With not a tree or stone to mark the place;
"When Birds were Songless"
© William Watson
When birds were songless on the bough
I heard thee sing.
The world was full of winter, thou
Wert full of spring.
Written After Swimming From Sestos To Abydos
© George Gordon Byron
If, in the month of dark December,
Leander, who was nightly wont
(What maid will not the tale remember?)
To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont!
Women's Song Of The Corn
© Amy Lowell
How beautiful are the corn rows,
Stretching to the morning sun,
Stretching to the evening sun.
Very beautiful, the long rows of corn.
Written On Cramond Beach
© Frances Anne Kemble
Farewell, old playmate! on thy sandy shore
My lingering feet will leave their print no more;
Waiting -- Afield At Dusk
© Robert Frost
What things for dream there are when spectre-like,
Moving among tall haycocks lightly piled,
Womanhood
© Madison Julius Cawein
The summer takes its hue
From something opulent as fair in her,
And the bright heaven is brighter than it was;
Brighter and lovelier,
Arching its beautiful blue,
Serene and soft, as her sweet gaze, o'er us.
Weary
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Here, in the silent churchyard, 'mid a thousand dead, alone,
Weary I sit for a moment clasping this cross of stone,
White Rose And Red
© Augusta Davies Webster
WHITE rose sighed in the morn,
Red rose laughed in the noon,
And "Sweetest sweetness is ended soon,"
And "Never heed for the thorn."
"`Were I a Poet, I would dwell"
© Alfred Austin
`Were I a Poet, I would dwell,
Not upon lonely height,
We like march, his shoes are purple,
© Emily Dickinson
We like March, his shoes are purple,
He is new and high;
