Poems begining by W
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Within and Without: Part III: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
SCENE I.-Night. London. A large meanly furnished room; a single
candle on the table; a child asleep in a little crib. JULIAN
sits by the table, reading in a low voice out of a book. He looks
older, and his hair is lined with grey; his eyes look clearer.
Walking Around (Original Spanish)
© Pablo Neruda
It so happens I am sick of being a man.
And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie
houses
dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt
steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.
Waiting For Spring
© John Newton
Though cloudy skies, and northern blasts,
Retard the gentle spring awhile;
The sun will conqu'ror prove at last,
And nature wear a vernal smile.
Wordsworth
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Dear friends, who read the world aright,
And in its common forms discern
A beauty and a harmony
The many never learn!
Welcome, May
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Welcome, May! welcome, May!
Thou hast been too long away,
All the widow'd wintry hours
Wept for thee, gentle May;
But the fault was only ours-
We were sad when thou wert gay!
What Is Success?
© Edgar Albert Guest
Success is being friendly when another needs a friend;
It's in the cheery words you speak, and in the coins you lend;
Success is not alone in skill and deeds of daring great;
It's in the roses that you plant beside your garden gate.
Winter Hue's Recalled
© Archibald Lampman
Life is not all for effort: there are hours,
When fancy breaks from the exacting will,
What a Book! : to Calvus the Poet
© Gaius Valerius Catullus
If I didnt love you more than my eyes,
most delightful Calvus, Id dislike you
Wishing -- Or Fate And I
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Wise men tell me thou, O Fate,
Art invincible and great.
Well, I own thy prowess; still
Dare I flount thee, with my will.
Weeping
© Alexander Pope
While Celia's Tears make sorrow bright,
Proud Grief sits swelling in her eyes;
The Sun, next those the fairest light,
Thus from the Ocean first did rise:
And thus thro' Mists we see the Sun,
Which else we durst not gaze upon.
Wayside Ambition
© George Ade
I want to be a brakeman,
Dog gone!
Legs hangin' over the edge of a flat car,
Train goin' 'bout twenty-five miles 'n hour,
Kickin' the dog-fennel 'long the track
That's what a brakeman does.
Written in a Collection of Bacchanalian Songs
© William Shenstone
Adieu, ye jovial Youths! who join
To plunge old Care in floods of wine;
And, as your dazzled eyeballs roll,
Discern him struggling in the bowl.
We Fought for - South of the Walls
© Li Po
Died for - North of the Ramparts(to an old tune)
We fought for Mulberry Springs
Written In Juice Of Lemon
© Abraham Cowley
Whilst what I write I do not see,
I dare thus, ev'n to you, write poetry.
Ah, foolish Muse! which dost so high aspire,
And know'st her judgment well,
How much it does thy power excel,
Yet dar'st be read by, thy just doom, the fire.
Warning
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Virtue is Virtue, writ in ink or blood.
And Duty, Honour, Valour, are the same
When Rody Came To Ironbark
© Alice Guerin Crist
When Rody came to Ironbark, 'twas fun to watch the girls,
Such sorting out of frills and frocks such pinning up of curls,
there were no 'bob's no 'shingles' then but ringlets floated down,
and the the curling tongs worked overtime, when Rody came to town.
What Then?
© William Butler Yeats
HIS chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
"What then?' sang Plato's ghost. "What then?"
