Poems begining by A
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Atalanta in Calydon
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
When the hounds of spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plainFills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain;And the brown bright nightingale amorousIs half assuaged for Itylus,For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces, The tongueless vigil, and all the pain
A Child's Alone
© Sullivan Rosemary
In the photographs the reporters tookthe others have closed their eyes;only hers are open, stare into blankness
A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakespear's, by the Author
© Sir John Suckling
One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under, Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder, As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss! The one look'd pale and for revenge did long, While t'other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong
A Scrap of Paper
© Studdert Kennedy Geoffrey Anketell
Just a little scrap of paper In a yellow envelope,And the whole world is a ruin, Even Hope.
At Midocean
© Robert Bly
All day I loved you in a fever holding on to the tail of the horse.
I overflowed whenever I reached out to touch you.
After Long Busyness
© Robert Bly
I start out for a walk at last after weeks at the desk.
Moon gone plowing underfoot no stars; not a trace of light!
Suppose a horse were galloping toward me in this open field?
Every day I did not spend in solitude was wasted.
Answer to an Invitation to Dine at Fishmongers Hall
© Smith Sydney
Much do I love, at civic treat,The monsters of the deep to eat;To see the rosy salmon lying,By smelts encircled, born for frying;And from the china boat to pour,On flaky cod, the flavour'd shower
Astrophel and Stella: Sixt Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
O you that heare this voice,O you that see this face,Say whether of the choiceDeserues the former place:Feare not to judge this bate,For it is void of hate
Astrophel and Stella: Seuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Whose senses in so euill consort, their step-dame Nature laies,That rauishing delight in them most sweete tunes do not raise;Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so closed with wit,As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:O let them heare these sacred tunes, and learne in wonders schooles,To be in things past bounds of wit fooles, if they be not fooles
Astrophel and Stella: Fift Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
While fauour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,Thought waited on delight, and speech did follow thought:Then grew my tongue and pen records vnto thy glorie:I thought all words were lost, that were not spent of thee:I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,And all eares worse then deafe, that heard not out thy storie
Astrophel and Stella: Eleuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who is it that this darke night,Vnderneath my window playneth?It is one who from thy sight,Being (ah) exild, disdaynethEuery other vulgar light
Astrophel and Stella: Eight Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a groue most rich of shade,Where birds wanton musicke made,May then yong his pide weedes showing,New perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweete,Did for mutuall comfort meet,Both within themselues oppressed,But each in the other blessed
Astrophel and Stella: 108
© Sir Philip Sidney
When sorrow (vsing mine owne fiers might)Melts downe his lead into my boyling brest,Through that darke fornace to my heart opprest,There shines a joy from thee my only light;But soone as thought of thee breeds my delight,And my young soule flutters to thee his nest,Most rude dispaire my daily vnbidden guest,Clips streight my wings, streight wraps me in his night,And makes me then bow downe my head, and say,Ah what does Phœbus gold that wretch auaile,Whom iron doores do keepe from vse of day?So strangely (alas) thy workes in me preuaile,That in my woes for thee thou art my joy,And in my joyes for thee my onely annoy
Astrophel and Stella: 107
© Sir Philip Sidney
Stella since thou so right a Princesse artOf all the powers which life bestowes on me,That ere by them ought vndertaken be,They first resort vnto that soueraigne part;Sweete for a while giue respite to my hart,Which pants as though it still should leape to thee:And on my thoughts giue my LieftenancyTo this great cause, which needs both vse and art
Astrophel and Stella: 106
© Sir Philip Sidney
O absent presence Stella is not here;False flattering hope, that with so faire a face,Bare me in hand, that in this Orphane place,Stella, I say my Stella, should appeare
Astrophel and Stella: 105
© Sir Philip Sidney
Vnhappie sight, and hath she vanisht bySo neere, in so good time so free a place?Dead glasse doest thou thy object so imbrace,As what my heart still sees thou canst not spie?I sweare by her I loue and lacke, that IWas not in fault, who bent thy dazling raceOnely vnto the heau'n of Stellas face,Counting but dust what in the way did lie
Astrophel and Stella: 103
© Sir Philip Sidney
O happie Tems, that didst my Stella beare,I saw thy selfe with many a smiling lineVpon thy cheerefull face, joyes liuerie weare:While those faire planets on thy streams did shine
Astrophel and Stella: 102
© Sir Philip Sidney
Where be those Roses gone, which sweetned so our eyes?Where those red cheeks, which oft with faire encrease did frameThe height of honor in the kindly badge of shame?Who hath the crimson weeds stolne from my morning skies?How doth the colour vade of those vermillion dies,Which nature selfe did make, and selfe engraind the same?I would know by what right this palenesse ouercameThat hue, whose force my hart still vnto thraledome ties?Galleins adoptiue sonnes, who by a beaten wayTheir judgements hackney on, the fault on sicknesse lay,But feeling proofe makes me (say they) mistake it furre:It is but loue which makes his paper perfite white,To write therein more fresh the story of delight,While beauties reddest inke Venus for him doth sturre
