Poems begining by Y
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"You took away all the oceans and all the room"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
You took away all the oceans and all the room.
You gave me my shoe-size in earth with bars around it.
Where did it get you? Nowhere.
You left me my lips, and they shape words, even in silence.
Ye Banks And Braes O'Bonnie Doon
© Robert Burns
Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair ?
Yet If His Majesty Our Sovereign Lord
© Thomas Ford
Yet if his majesty our sovereign lord
Should of his own accord
Young Philomela's Powrfull Dart
© Thomas Parnell
Young Philomela's powrfull dart
Two gentle shepheard's hitt
Your Children
© Khalil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
You are disappointed? You thought...
© Boris Pasternak
You are disappointed? You thought that in peace we
Would part to the sound of a requiem, a swan-song?
You counted on grief, with your pupils dilated,
Their invincibility trying in tears on?
Yet Dish
© Gertrude Stein
I
Put a sun in Sunday, Sunday.
Eleven please ten hoop. Hoop.
Cousin coarse in coarse in soap.
Cousin coarse in soap sew up. soap.
Cousin coarse in sew up soap.
Yes, It Was The Mountain Echo
© William Wordsworth
YES, it was the mountain Echo,
Solitary, clear, profound,
Answering to the shouting Cuckoo,
Giving to her sound for sound!
Yvonne of Brittany
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
In your mother's apple-orchard,
Just a year ago, last spring:
Yellow Warblers
© Katharine Lee Bates
The first faint dawn was flushing up the skies
When, dreamland still bewildering mine eyes,
I looked out to the oak that, winter-long,
- a winter wild with war and woe and wrong -
Beyond my casement had been void of song.
"Your marvelous pronunciation"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
Your marvelous pronunciation --
The scorching whistle of birds of prey;
Or should I say: a living impression
Of some sort of silken eyelashes.
Young Girl: Annam
© Padraic Colum
I AM a young girl;
I live here alone:
I write long letters
But there is no one
Youths End
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
I HAVE held my life too high,
Spring and harvest, love and laughter, smile and sigh.
You Will Forget Me
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
You will forget me. The years are so tender,
They bind up the wounds which we think are so deep,
