Poems begining by W
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Wet City Night
© Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.
With eye and with gesture
© Stephen Crane
With eye and with gesture
You say you are holy.
I say you lie;
For I did see you
When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
© Stephen Crane
When the prophet, a complacent fat man,
Arrived at the mountain-top,
He cried: "Woe to my knowledge!
I intended to see good white lands
And bad black lands,
But the scene is grey."
Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
© Stephen Crane
Why do you strive for greatness, fool?
Go pluck a bough and wear it.
It is as sufficing.
When a people reach the top of a hill,
© Stephen Crane
When a people reach the top of a hill,
Then does God lean toward them,
Shortens tongues and lengthens arms.
A vision of their dead comes to the weak.
"What says the sea, little shell?"
© Stephen Crane
"What says the sea, little shell?
What says the sea?
Long has our brother been silent to us,
Kept his message for the ships,
Awkward ships, stupid ships."
Walking in the sky
© Stephen Crane
Walking in the sky,
A man in strange black garb
Encountered a radiant form.
Then his steps were eager;
Women's Rights
© Annie Louisa Walker
You cannot rob us of the rights we cherish,
Nor turn our thoughts away
From the bright picture of a "Woman's Mission"
Our hearts portray.
What Being in Rank-Old Nature
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
What being in rank-old nature should earlier have that breath been
That h?re p?rsonal tells off these heart-song powerful peals?
A bush-browed, beetle-br?wed b?llow is it?
With a so?th-w?sterly w?nd bl?stering, with a tide rolls reels
What Shall I Do For the Land that Bred Me
© Gerard Manley Hopkins
What shall I do for the land that bred me,
Her homes and fields that folded and fed me?
Be under her banner and live for her honour:
Under her banner Ill live for her honour.
CHORUS. Under her banner live for her honour.
When Cold December
© Dame Edith Sitwell
WHEN cold December
Froze to grisamber
The jangling bells on the sweet rose-trees--
Then fading slow
Why I Am a Liberal
© Robert Browning
But little do or can the best of us:
That little is achieved through Liberty.
Who, then, dares hold, emancipated thus,
His fellow shall continue bound? Not I,
Who live, love, labour freely, nor discuss
A brother's right to freedom. That is "Why."
Women And Roses
© Robert Browning
I dream of a red-rose tree.
And which of its roses three
Is the dearest rose to me?
Waring
© Robert Browning
What's become of Waring
Since he gave us all the slip,
Chose land-travel or seafaring,
Boots and chest, or staff and scrip,
Rather than pace up and down
Any longer London-town?
What shall I your true love tell?
© Francis Thompson
What shall I your true love tell,
Earth forsaking maid?
What shall I your true love tell
When life's spectre's laid?
Waterfalls of Jack and a soft shoe shuffle
© R.George
people searching their Gmail
flirting in chats, forums, MSN;
service changes, east coast raiders
just acquired
101,001 websites.
Westward on the High-Hilled Plains
© Alfred Edward Housman
Westward on the high-hilled plains
Where for me the world began,
Still, I think, in newer veins
Frets the changeless blood of man.
When Smoke Stood Up From Ludlow
© Alfred Edward Housman
When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,
When I Came Last to Ludlow
© Alfred Edward Housman
When I came last to Ludlow
Amidst the moonlight pale,
Two friends kept step beside me,
Two honest friends and hale.
When the Lad for Longing Sighs
© Alfred Edward Housman
When the lad for longing sighs,
Mute and dull of cheer and pale,
If at death's own door he lies,
Maiden, you can heal his ail.
