Poems begining by M
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My Father’s Hands
© Neilson Shane
Claim a plot of land your prison: boundariesfar as the cricks that keep a neighbour’s farmfrom creeping. The stern command to grow:plough and harrow, till and sow, months of hoe-
MRI
© Neilson Shane
The particulates of matterand one man on a plastic slab,lying so still a black bear,
My Mother's Bible
© Morris George Pope
This book is all that's left me now! -- Tears will unbidden start --With faltering lip and throbbing brow, I press it to my heart
Midnight Lamentation
© Harold Monro
When you and I go downBreathless and cold,Our faces both worn backTo earthly mould,How lonely we shall be!What shall we do,You without me,I without you?
Mavety Street
© Meyer Bruce
When moonlight stole like guilty cats and summer owned the airI kissed your lips on Mavety Street
Monsieur Joliat
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
Boston she have good hockey team; Dose Senators ess nice.But Les Canadiens ees bes' Dat ever skate de ice.
Mind your Knitting
© Linton William James
Lucy! mind your knitting: Blind as I may be,I am certain you're not sitting At your work by me
My White Hair
© Li Bai
Long, long is my whitening hair;Long, long is it laden with care.I look into my mirror bright.From where comes autumn frost in sight?
Man and Bat
© David Herbert Lawrence
When I went into my room, at mid-morning,Say ten o'clock ...My room, a crash-box over that great stone rattleThe Via de' Bardi ....
Morning on the Lièvre
© Archibald Lampman
Far above us where a jayScreams his matins to the day,Capped with gold and amethyst,Like a vapor from the forgeOf a giant somewhere hid,Out of hearing of the clangOf his hammer, skirts of mistSlowly up the woody gorgeLift and hang
McAndrew's Hymn
© Rudyard Kipling
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream,An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always Steam
My Prayer
© Joussaye Marie
Ye who have struggled with me in the strife, Ye who have braved the conflict, fought and bled,My comrades on the battle-field of Life, Deal with me gently after I am dead.
Modryb Marya -- Aunt Mary
© Robert Stephen Hawker
In old and simple-hearted Cornwall, the household names "Uncle" and "Aunt" were uttered and used as they are to this day in many countries of the East, not only as phrases of kindred, but as words of kindly greeting and tender respect
March
© Susan Frances Harrison
Here on the wide waste lands,Take--child--these trembling hands,Though my life be as blank and waste,My days as sorely ungracedBy glimmer of green on the rimOf a sunless wilderness dim,As the wet fields barren and brown,As the fork of each sterile limbShorn of its lustrous crown
"My Friends"
© Charles Harpur
'Tis a very sad thing to be true,That so soon as our years are not very few,We cannot say simply -- "My Friends," even whileThe cheek may be decked in a fair-weather smile,And be, at the same time, exemptFrom a twinge of contempt
"Misery"
© Charles Harpur
As the moaning wild waves everFret around some lonely isle,There are griefs that no endeavorStilleth even for awhile,Beating at my heart for ever --Beating at it now;Beating at my heart -- and achingUpward to my brow
Mary's Lamb
© Hale Sarah Josepha
Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow,And every where that Mary went The lamb was sure to go;He followed her to school one day -- That was against the rule,It made the children laugh and play To see a lamb at school
