Poems begining by N

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55

Nothing To Laugh At

© Edgar Albert Guest

'Taint nothin' to laugh at as I can see!

If you'd been stung by a bumble bee,

YOU can't pay back in dollars what your father does for you,
You can't repay in kindness all the tenderness he shows;
You little know the perils he has safely brought you through,
And the wealth of Rockefeller this account would never close.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

© Franklin Pierce Adams

There was a man in our town who said that he would share
His profits with his laborers, for that was only fair,
And people said: Oh, isnt he the shrewd and foxy gent?
It cost him next to nothing for that free advértisement!

Night

© Arthur Symons

The night's held breath,
And the Stars' steady eyes:
Is it sleep, is it death,
In the earth, in the skies?

November

© John Payne

THE tale of wake is told; the stage is bare,

The curtain falls upon the ended play;

Nightfall

© Sara Teasdale

WE will never walk again
As we used to walk at night,
Watching our shadows lengthen
Under the gold street-light

Norman and Saxon

© Rudyard Kipling

My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir
To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for my share
When we conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little handful it is.
But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this:

New Year

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

O shame too deep for tongue or pen to tell!
That woman opens wide the door of hell
For man to enter-woman, who should be
As true as truth and pure as purity.

Nevermore

© Paul Verlaine

Remembrance, what wilt thou with me? The year
Declined; in the still air the thrush piped clear,
The languid sunshine did incurious peer
Among the thinned leaves of the forest sere.

Night Song At Amalfi

© Sara Teasdale

I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love -
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet V

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Until it happened, as such things will be,
That she, who had a proud man for her spouse
None the less loving that unloved was he,
Must bear a child, the heir to his high house.

Nineteenth Sunday After Trinity

© John Keble

When Persecution's torrent blaze
Wraps the unshrinking Martyr's head;
When fade all earthly flowers and bays,
When summer friends are gone and fled,
Is he alone in that dark hour
Who owns the Lord of love and power?

Native Land

© Mikhail Lermontov

I love my native land with such perverse affection!
My better judgement has no standing here.
Not glory, won in bloody action,
nor yet that calm demeanour, trusting and austere,
nor yet age-hallowed rites or handed-down traditions;
not one can stir my soul to gratifying visions.

Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XII

He slept as only under the free heaven
It is given to sleep, a slumber shadowless
As the broad river to whose banks at even
That spirit comes which brings forgetfulness,

No Child

I HEARD in the night the pigeons
Stirring within their nest:
The wild pigeons' stir was tender,
Like a child's hand at the breast.

New Year's Day

© Mao Zedong

Ninghua, Qingliu, Guihua -
What narrow paths, deep woods and slippery moss!
Whither are we bound today?
Straight to the foot of Wuyi Mountain.
To the mountain, the foot of the mountain,
Red flags stream in the wind in a blaze of glory.