Poems begining by W

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113

When Cap'n Tom Comes Home

© Katharine Lee Bates

WHEN Cap'n Tom comes home, and his sea chest

Is opened, oh, the shells that rainbow foam

When Acorns Fall

© Alfred Austin

When acorns fall and swallows troop for flight,

And hope matured slow mellows to regret,

War!

© Leon Gellert

When my poor body died,-Alas!

I watched it topple down a hill

With the Tide

© Edith Wharton

Somewhere I read, in an old book whose name

Is gone from me, I read that when the days

Written In Australia

© Arthur Henry Adams

THE WIDE sun stares without a cloud:

Whipped by his glances truculent

Wrens And Robins In The Hedge

© Christina Georgina Rossetti

Wrens and robins in the hedge,
Wrens and robins here and there;
Building, perching, pecking, fluttering,
Everywhere! C

Wintering

© Sylvia Plath

This is the easy time, there is nothing doing.
I have whirled the midwife's extractor,
I have my honey,
Six jars of it,
Six cat's eyes in the wine cellar,

"Will Sail Tomorrow."

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

THE good ship lies in the crowded dock,
Fair as a statue, firm as a rock:
Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,
Her funnel glittering white and bare,

I HAVE come with my verses--I think I may claim
It is not the first time I have tried on the same.
They were puckered in rhyme, they were wrinkled in wit;
But your hearts were so large that they made them a fit.

Wallabi Joe

© Anonymous

The saddle was hung on the stockyard rail,

And the poor old horse stood whisking his tail,

William Henry Groom Vale`

© George Essex Evans

For never shall oblivion slight
The hearts that fight the Peoples fight.
Much less, when, thro a life of stress,
One voice gainst countless odds has stood,
And won, in pain and bitterness,
The Peoples good.

With The Lark

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

Night is for sorrow and dawn is for joy,
Chasing the troubles that fret and annoy;
Darkness for sighing and daylight for song,--
Cheery and chaste the strain, heartfelt and strong.
All the night through, though I moan in the dark,
I wake in the morning to sing with the lark.

"Where Is Thy Brother?"

Oh! when I think in what a thorny way
The feet of men must ever walk and stray,
I do not wonder that so many fall,
But wonder more that any stand at all.