Poems begining by Y

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Yellow Clover

© Katharine Lee Bates

Must I, who walk alone,


Come on it still,

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Youth And Knowledge

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

What price, child, shall I pay for your bright eyes
(How large a debt!) the light they shed on me?
What for your cheeks, so red in their surprise,
Your lips, your hands, your maiden gestures free,

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You've given me a weapon

© Judith Skillman

Poem by Anne-Marie Derése, translated by Judith Skillman.You've given me a weapon.
you've flung your words
into the human herd
like stones.

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You, Doctor Martin

© Anne Sexton

You, Doctor Martin, walk
from breakfast to madness. Late August,
I speed through the antiseptic tunnel
where the moving dead still talk

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Young

© Anne Sexton

A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer

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Youth And Beauty

© William Carlos Williams

I bought a dishmop—
having no daughter—
for they had twisted
fine ribbons of shining copper

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Youth and Love

© Amy Levy

What does youth know of love?
Little enough, I trow!
He plucks the myrtle for his brow,
For his forehead the rose.
Nay, but of love
It is not youth who knows.

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Youth

© Francis Ledwidge

She paved the way with perfume sweet
Of flowers that moved like winds alight,
And never weary grew my feet
Wandering through[the spring's delight.

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Yvytot

© Eugene Field

Where wail the waters in their flaw
A spectre wanders to and fro,
And evermore that ghostly shore
Bemoans the heir of Yvytot.

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Yes, Mary Ann, I Freely Grant

© Amelia Opie

Yes, Mary Ann, I freely grant,
The charms of Henry's eyes I see;
But while I gaze, I something want,
I want those eyes - to gaze on me.

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Ye Old Mule

© Sir Thomas Wyatt

Ye old mule that think yourself so fair,
Leave off with craft your beauty to repair,
For it is true, without any fable,
No man setteth more by riding in your saddle.
Too much travail so do your train appair.
Ye old mule

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"You may have other loves"

© Lesbia Harford

You may have other loves,
Red mouths to kiss.
Why should you lose
That loveliness for this?

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Your Hands

© Pablo Neruda

When your hands leap

towards mine, love,

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Yves Tanguy

© David Gascoyne

The worlds are breaking in my head
Blown by the brainless wind
That comes from afar
Swollen with dusk and dust
And hysterical rain

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Yet a Little Sleep

© Robert Fuller Murray

Beside the drowsy streams that creep
Within this island of repose,
Oh, let us rest from cares and woes,
Oh, let us fold our hands to sleep!

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Yesterday and Today XII

© Khalil Gibran

The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles

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Yes, Atthis, you may be sure

© Sappho

of the life we shared here, when you seemed
the Goddess incarnate
to her and your singing pleased her best

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You Gotta be Kidding

© Sukasah Syahdan

So you think God
soliloquizes to Himself
(or Herself, Itself, or Godself
for that matter)
in front of the Bathroom Mirror?

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Youth

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

WHY linger round the sunken wrecks

Where old Armadas found their graves?