Poems begining by W

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When I Watch the Living Meet

© Alfred Edward Housman

When I watch the living meet
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

White in the Moon the Long Road Lies

© Alfred Edward Housman

White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.

Wake Not for the World-Heard Thunder

© Alfred Edward Housman

Wake not for the world-heard thunder,
Nor the chimes that earthquakes toll;
Stars may plot in heaven with planet,
Lightning rive the rock of granite,

With Rue My Heart Is Laden

© Alfred Edward Housman

With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.

When I Was One-and-Twenty

© Alfred Edward Housman

When I was one-and-twenty
I heard a wise man say,
"Give crowns and pounds and guineas
But not your heart away;

What Forgotten Realm?

© Alain Bosquet

I paid dearly for the poem's visit!
My best words lie down to sleep in the nettles,
my greenest syllables dream
of a silence as young as themselves.

Whereas At Morning In A Jeweled Crown

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

Whereas at morning in a Jeweled Crown
I bit my fingers and was hard to please,
Having shook disaster till the fruit fell down
I feel tonight more happy and at ease:

When We Are Old And These Rejoicing Veins

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

When we are old and these rejoicing veins
Are frosty channels to a muted stream,
And out of all our burning their remains
No feeblest spark to fire us, even in dream,

Wraith

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
Surely it is not I she's wanting;
Someone living here before
"Nobody's in the house but me:
You may come in if you like and see."

When The Year Grows Old

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I cannot but remember
When the year grows old
OctoberNovember
How she disliked the cold!

Wild Swans

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more:
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.

Weeds

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

White with daisies and red with sorrel
And empty, empty under the sky!
Life is a quest and love a quarrel
Here is a place for me to lie.

Witch-Wife

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.

Well, I Have Lost You

Well, I have lost you; and I lost you fairly;
In my own way, and with my full consent.
Say what you will, kings in a tumbrel rarely
Went to their deaths more proud than this one went.

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet XLIII)

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Wind was Rough which Tore, The

The wind was rough which tore
That leaf from its parent tree
The fate was cruel which bore
The withering corpse to me

Wouldst thou, my friend, mount up to the highest summit of wisdom,
Be not deterred by the fear, prudence thy course may deride
That shortsighted one sees but the bank that from thee is flying,
Not the one which ere long thou wilt attain with bold flight.

Warning

© Jenny Joseph

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

Where's the Poet?

© John Keats

Where's the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal, be he King,

Written On A Blank Space At The End Of Chaucer's Tale Of The Flowre And The Lefe

© John Keats

This pleasant tale is like a little copse:
The honied lines so freshly interlace,
To keep the reader in so sweet a place,
So that he here and there full-hearted stops;