Poems begining by V

/ page 5 of 25 /

Order by :

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
. . .
25

Valentine Day in Cactus Center

© Arthur Chapman

Things is quiet, here in Cactus, and our bullyvards now lack
The brisk, upliftin' infloo'nce of the forty-five's loud crack;
There's three doctors and some nusses, all the way from San Antone,
And they're patchin' up the leavin's of a Valentine cyclone.

Versicles

© George Gordon Byron

I Read the 'Christabel';
Very well:
I read the Missionary';
Pretty - very

Villanelle of His Ladys Treasures

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

I took her dainty eyes, as well

As silken tendrils of her hair:

Visitation And Communion Of The Sick

© John Keble

O Youth and Joy, your airy tread

Too lightly springs by Sorrow's bed,

Vanishings

© William Watson

As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day

Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea,

Vox Et Praeterea Nihil

© Henry Timrod

I've been haunted all night, I've been haunted all day,

By the ghost of a song, by the shade of a lay,

Vis Medicatrix Naturae

© Alfred Austin

When Faith turns false and Fancy grows unkind,

And Fortune, more from fickleness than spite,

Vulcan's Song: In Making Of The Arrows

© John Lyly

MY shag-hair Cyclops, come, let's ply
Our Lemnian hammers lustily.
By my wife's sparrows,
I swear these arrows
Shall singing fly
Through many a wanton's eye.

Valentine By A Telegraph Clerk

© James Clerk Maxwell

The tendrils of my soul are twined
With thine, though many a mile apart.
And thine in close coiled circuits wind
Around the needle of my heart.

Verses Found In A Summerhouse At Hales-Owen

© George Gordon Byron

When vice and folly mark them as they pass.
Like noxious reptiles o'er the whiten'd wall,
The filth they leave still points out where they crawl.

Vision

© William Dean Howells

WITHIN a poor mans squalid home I stood:

The one bare chamber, where his work-worn wife

Virginal Love

© Charles Harpur

I LOVE him so,
That though his face I neer might see,
In the assurance that he so loved me
This heart of mine would glow
With pulses sweeter than the sweetest be
That colder ones can know.

Views Of Life

© Anne Brontë

When sinks my heart in hopeless gloom,
And life can show no joy for me;
And I behold a yawning tomb,
Where bowers and palaces should be;

Vandrer-Liv

Gaardhunden gjøer dens Tænder ere saa skarpe.

En Qvinde træder i Forstuen ind,

View From A Height

© Du Fu

Sharp wind, towering sky, apes howling mournfully;

Villa Serbelloni, Bellaggio

The fountain shivers lightly in the rain,
The laurels drip, the fading roses fall,
The marble satyr plays a mournful strain
That leaves the rainy fragrance musical.