Poems begining by A

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A River

© A. K. Ramanujan

In Madurai,
city of temples and poets,
who sang of cities and temples,
every summer

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At Parting

© Wang Wei

I dismount from my horse and I offer you wine,
And I ask you where you are going and why.
And you answer: "I am discontent
And would rest at the foot of the southern mountain.
So give me leave and ask me no questions.
White clouds pass there without end."

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A Farm-house On The Wei River

© Wang Wei

In the slant of the sun on the country-side,


Cattle and sheep trail home along the lane;

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Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred

© Dylan Thomas

When the morning was waking over the war

He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,

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A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London

© Dylan Thomas

Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness

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Alfred Lord Tennyson - The Coming Of Arthur

© Alfred Tennyson

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

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A Knock On The Door

© James Tate

They ask me if I've ever thought about the end of

the world, and I say, "Come in, come in, let me

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A Description of the Morning

© Jonathan Swift

Now hardly here and there a hackney-coach

Appearing, show'd the ruddy morn's approach.

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Always on the Train

© Ruth Stone

Writing poems about writing poems


is like rolling bales of hay in Texas.

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A High-Toned Old Christian Woman

© Wallace Stevens

Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.

Take the moral law and make a nave of it

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Amoretti XXII: This Holy Season

© Edmund Spenser

This holy season, fit to fast and pray,

Men to devotion ought to be inclin'd:

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Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote Her Name

© Edmund Spenser

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

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Amoretti LXXIX: Men Call you Fair

© Edmund Spenser

Men call you fair, and you do credit it,

For that your self ye daily such do see:

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Amoretti LXXIV: Most Happy Letters

© Edmund Spenser

Most happy letters, fram'd by skilful trade,

With which that happy name was first design'd:

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Amoretti LXVIII: Most Glorious Lord of Life

© Edmund Spenser

Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day,

Didst make thy triumph over death and sin:

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Amoretti LXVII: Like as a Huntsman

© Edmund Spenser

Like as a huntsman after weary chase,

Seeing the game from him escap'd away,

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A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty

© Edmund Spenser

Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,

Through contemplation of those goodly sights,

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Astrophel and Stella: XXXIX

© Sir Philip Sidney

Come Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,

The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,

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Astrophel and Stella: XXXIII

© Sir Philip Sidney

I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,

And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;

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Astrophel and Stella: XX

© Sir Philip Sidney

Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound, fly!

See there that boy, that murd'ring boy, I say,