Poems begining by W
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When the Frost is on the Punkin
© James Whitcomb Riley
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,
Warning to the Mighty
© Adelaide Crapsey
Ere the horne'd owl hoot
Once and twice and thrice there shall
Whistle-Fantasy
© Margaret Widdemer
OUT in the dark the train passes
And the whistle calls to the child,
When De Folks Is Gone
© James Whitcomb Riley
What dat scratchin' at de kitchin do'?
Done heah'n dat foh an hour er mo'!
Tell you Mr. Niggah, das sho's yo' bo'n,
Hit's mighty lonesome waitin' when de folks is gone!
Wordsworth At Dove Cottage
© Alfred Austin
Wise Wordsworth, to avert your ken,
From half of human fate.
Winter Break
© Archibald Lampman
All day between high-curded clouds the sun
Shone down like summer on the steaming planks.
Waving Goodbye
© Gerald Stern
I wanted to know what it was like before we
had voices and before we had bare fingers and before we
"When I used to focus on the worries, everybody"
© Joanne Kyger
When I used to focus on the worries, everybody
was ahead of me, I was the bottom
of the totem pole,
a largely spread squat animal.
Whoever You Are Holding Me Now in Hand
© Walt Whitman
Whoever you are holding me now in hand,
Without one thing all will be useless,
I give you fair warning before you attempt me further,
I am not what you supposed, but far different.
W. Gilmore Simms
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE swift mysterious seasons rise and set;
The omnipotent years pass o'er us, bright or dun;--
Dawns blush, and mid-days burn, 'till scarce aware
Of what deep meaning haunts our twilight air,
Wasted
© Ada Cambridge
But, oh, how few the saved, how small the gain,
How poor the profit as against the cost,
The waste of life potential, vast and fair,
In soul unfructified and starveling brain,
Of Power that might have been, and might be-lost
For want of common food and common air!
Wolf And Hound
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
You'll take my tale with a little salt;
But it needs none, nevertheless!
I was foiled completely - fair at fault -
Disheartened, too, I confess!
Winter Solstice Chant
© Annie Finch
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes
with the edge of winter sky
leaning over us in icy stars.
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.
When Mother Cooked With Wood
© Edgar Albert Guest
I do not quarrel with the gas,
Our modern range is fine,
Wail
© Dorothy Parker
Love has gone a-rocketing.
That is not the worst;
I could do without the thing,
And not be the first.
Written In Montaignes Essays. Given To The Duke Of Shrewsbury In France, After The Peace
© Matthew Prior
Dictate, O mighty judge, what thou hast seen
Of cities and of courts, of books and men,
And deign to let thy servant hold the pen.
