Poems begining by J

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I'm back down in ole Georgy w'ere de sun is shinin' hot,
W'ere de cawn it is a-tasslin', gittin' ready fu' de pot;
W'ere de cott'n is a-openin' an' a-w'itenin' in de sun,
An' de ripenin' o' de sugah-cane is mighty nigh begun.

Jordan (II)

© George Herbert

When first my lines of heav'nly joyes made mention,
Such was their lustre, they did so excell,
That I sought out quaint words and trim invention;
My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell,
Curling with metaphors a plain intention,
Decking the sense, as if it were to sell.

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 05

© Torquato Tasso

LXI

"Presages, ah too true:" with that a space

Jite-ji kucha-e-dildar se

© Meer Taqi Meer

jite-ji kucha-e-dildar se jaya na gaya

us ki diwar ka sar se mere saya na gaya

James Shirley: XIV

© Algernon Charles Swinburne

And in the thickening twilight under thee
Walks Davenant, pensive in the paths where he,
The blithest throat that ever carolled love
In music made of mornings merriest heart,
Glad Suckling, stumbled from his seat above
And reeled on slippery roads of alien art.

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 01

© Torquato Tasso

THE ARGUMENT.

Ismeno conjures, but his charms are vain;

Jazz Chick

© Bob Kaufman

Music from her breast, vibrating
Soundseared into burnished velvet.
Silent hips deceiving fools.
Rivulets of trickling ecstacy

Jinny the Just

© Matthew Prior

Releas'd from the noise of the butcher and baker
Who, my old friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her,
And from the soft duns of my landlord the Quaker,

Julian and Maddalo : A Conversation

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I rode one evening with Count Maddalo
Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow
Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand
Of hillocks, heaped from ever-shifting sand,

June

© William Cullen Bryant

I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came to lie
At rest within the ground,

Jerusalem Delivered - Book 02 - part 07

© Torquato Tasso

LXXXVI

"But if our sins us of his help deprive,

January

© John Payne

THIS is the bitter birth-month of the year.

The sun looms large against the leaden sky,

Jilted

© Sylvia Plath

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Jacqueline

'Twas Autumn; thro' Provence had ceased
The vintage, and the vintage-feast.
The sun had set behind the hill,
The moon was up, and all was still,

Jezreel

© Thomas Hardy

Did they catch as it were in a Vision at shut of the day-
When their cavalry smote through the ancient Esdraelon Plain,
And they crossed where the Tishbite stood forth in his enemy's way-
His gaunt mournful Shade as he bade the King haste off amain?