Poems begining by S

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Still Life

© A. K. Ramanujan

When she left me
after lunch,I read
for a while.
But I suddenly wanted 

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Self-Portrait

© A. K. Ramanujan

I resemble everyone
but myself, and sometimes see
in shop-windows
  despite the well-knownlaws

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Shut Not Your Doors, andc

© Walt Whitman

SHUT not your doors to me, proud libraries,

For that which was lacking on all your well-fill’d shelves, yet needed most, I bring;

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Sonnet XXXIV: Charm'd by Thy Suffrage

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Charm'd by thy suffrage, shall I yet aspire

(All inauspicious as my fate appears,

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Sonnet XLVII: To Fancy

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Thee, Queen of Shadows! -- shall I still invoke,

Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew,

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Sonnet XLIV: Press'd by the Moon

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Press'd by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides,

While the loud equinox its power combines,

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Sonnet XLIII: The Unhappy Exile

© Charlotte Turner Smith

The unhappy exile, whom his fates confine

To the bleak coast of some unfriendly isle,

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Sonnet XLII: Composed During a Walk

© Charlotte Turner Smith

The dark and pillowy cloud, the sallow trees,

Seem o'er the ruins of the year to mourn;

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Sonnet VII: Sweet Poet of the Woods

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Sweet poet of the woods---a long adieu!

Farewel, soft minstrel of the early year!

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Sonnet LXVII: On Passing over a Dreary Tract

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Swift fleet the billowy clouds along the sky,

Earth seems to shudder at the storm aghast;

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Sonnet LXVI: The Night-Flood Rakes

© Charlotte Turner Smith

The night-flood rakes upon the stony shore;

Along the rugged cliffs and chalky caves

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Sonnet LXIII: The Gossamer

© Charlotte Turner Smith

O'er faded heath-flowers spun, or thorny furze,

The filmy Gossamer is lightly spread;

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Sonnet III: To a Nightingale

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Poor melancholy bird---that all night long
Tell'st to the Moon, thy tale of tender woe;
From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow,
And whence this mournful melody of song?

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Sonnet I

© Charlotte Turner Smith

THE partial Muse, has from my earliest hours,

Smil'd on the rugged path I'm doom'd to tread,

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Snow and Ice

© Quincy Troupe

ice sheets sweep this slick mirrored dark place

space as keys that turn in tight, trigger

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Song of the Lotos-Eaters

© Alfred Tennyson

THERE is sweet music here that softer falls


Than petals from blown roses on the grass,

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Success Comes To Cow Creek

© James Tate

I sit on the tracks,

a hundred feet from

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Shut Up And Eat Your Toad

© James Tate

The disorganization to which I currently belong

has skipped several meetings in a row

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Spring Beauties

© Ruth Stone

The abandoned campus,


empty brick buildings and early June

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So What

© Ruth Stone

For me the great truths are laced with hysteria.
How many Einsteins can we tolerate?
I leap into the uncertainty principle.
After so many smears, you want to wash it off with a laugh.
Ha ha, you say. So what if it's a meltdown?
Last lines to poems I will write immediately.