Poems begining by G

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God's Skallywags

© Robert William Service

The God of Scribes looked down and saw
The bitter band of seven,
Who had outraged his holy law
And lost their hope of Heaven:

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God's Vagabond

© Robert William Service

A passion to be free
Has ever mastered me;
To none beneath the sun
Will I bow down,--not one
Shall leash my liberty.

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Golden Days

© Robert William Service

Another day of toil and strife,
Another page so white,
Within that fateful Log of Life
That I and all must write;

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Grumpy Grandpa

© Robert William Service

Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
As if they had been dipped in gore,
I'd like to set you lugging pails
And make you scrub the kitchen floor.

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Growing Old

© Robert William Service

Somehow the skies don't seem so blue
As they used to be;
Blossoms have a fainter hue,
Grass less green I see.

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Grandad

© Robert William Service

Heaven's mighty sweet, I guess;
Ain't no rush to git there:
Been a sinner, more or less;
Maybe wouldn't fit there.
Wicked still, bound to confess;
Might jest pine a bit there.

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Gacela of the Dead Child

© Federico Garcia Lorca

Each afternoon in Granada,
each afternoon, a child dies.
Each afternoon the water sits down
and chats with its companions.

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Gacela of the Dark Death

© Federico Garcia Lorca

I want to sleep the dream of the apples,
to withdraw from the tumult of cemetries.
I want to sleep the dream of that child
who wanted to cut his heart on the high seas.

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Gacela of Unforseen Love

© Federico Garcia Lorca

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

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Give Me Strength

© Rabindranath Tagore

This is my prayer to thee, my lord---strike,
strike at the root of penury in my heart.

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Going

© Liam Wilkinson

I spent the morning off
like an antiquated fax machine.
You prodded me occasionally,

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Good-Night

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Good-night? ah! no; the hour is ill
Which severs those it should unite;
Let us remain together still,
Then it will be good night.

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God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.

© Stephen Crane

God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.
With the infinite skill of an All-Master
Made He the hull and the sails,
Held He the rudder

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God lay dead in heaven

© Stephen Crane

God lay dead in heaven;
Angels sang the hymn of the end;
Purple winds went moaning,
Their wings drip-dripping

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Going Home

© Wislawa Szymborska

He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.

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Gloucester Moods

© William Vaughn Moody

A mile behind is Gloucester town
Where the flishing fleets put in,
A mile ahead the land dips down
And the woods and farms begin.

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God's Grandeur

© Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

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Garden Francies

© Robert Browning

I. THE FLOWER'S NAMEHere's the garden she walked across,
Arm in my arm, such a short while since:
Hark, now I push its wicket, the moss
Hinders the hinges and makes them wince!

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Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play

© Francis Thompson

Go, songs, for ended is our brief, sweet play;
Go, children of swift joy and tardy sorrow:
And some are sung, and that was yesterday,
And some are unsung, and that may be tomorrow.

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Gilded Gold

© Francis Thompson

Thou dost to rich attire a grace,
To let it deck itself with thee,
And teachest pomp strange cunning ways
To be thought simplicity.