Poems begining by S
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Sonnet XVI: And Yet, Because Thou
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And yet, because thou overcomest so,
Because thou art more noble and like a king,
Sir Henry Irving
© Virna Sheard
No more for thee the music and the lights,
Thy magic may no more win smile nor frown;
For thee, 0 dear interpreter of dreams,
The curtain hath rung down.
Sonnet XVII. From The Thirteenth Cantata Of Metastasio
© Charlotte Turner Smith
ON thy grey bark, in witness of my flame,
I carve Miranda's cypher--Beauteous tree!
Graced with the lovely letters of her name,
Henceforth be sacred to my love and me!
Sonnet XCIV: Michelangelo 's Kiss
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Great Michelangelo, with age grown bleak
And uttermost labours, having once o'ersaid
Sonnet XXVIII. To Friendship
© Charlotte Turner Smith
THOU! whose name too often is profaned;
Whose charms celestial, few have hearts to feel;
Unknown to Folly--and by Pride disdain'd!
--To thy soft solace may my sorrows steal!
St. Johns Day
© John Keble
"Lord, and what shall this man do?"
Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend?
If his love for Christ be true,
Christ hath told thee of his end:
This is he whom God approves,
This is he whom Jesus loves.
Skilsmissen
© Jens Baggesen
Hun
Snart hæves jeg til Lysets Sæde;
Mig Gravens Mørke skrækker ei;
O! doppelt døde jeg med Glæde,
Hvis nogen elskte dig, som jeg.
Song Of Yoomy
© Herman Melville
Departed the pride, and the glory of Mardi:
The vaunt of her isles sleeps deep in the sea,
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
© Sir Walter Scott
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking:
Sonnet LIX: Unhappy Pen
© Samuel Daniel
Unhappy pen and ill-accepted papers,
That intimate in vain my chaste desires,
Savnet
© Jens Baggesen
Af ængstlig Længsel nu mit Hierte gyser,
Min Siel er skiult i Nat, som Nordens Pol;
Sweet William's Ghost
© Thomas Percy
There came a ghost to Margaret's door,
With many a grievous grone,
And ay he tirled at the pin;
But answer made she none.
Sun-Dial, In The Churchyard Of Bremhill
© William Lisle Bowles
So passes silent o'er the dead thy shade,
Brief Time; and hour by hour, and day by day,
The pleasing pictures of the present fade,
And like a summer vapour steal away!
