Famous
Anniversary Poems
:
On A Wedding Anniversary by Dylan Thomas
How Do I Love Thee? Let me count the ways. by
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When You Are Old by William Butler Yeats
Never To Dream Of Spiders by Audre Lorde
JIMMY by Bhaskar Roy Barman
On A Wedding Anniversary by Dylan Thomas
One Year ago -- jots what? by Emily Dickinson
Morituri Salutamus: Poem for the Fiftieth Anniversary by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
ANNIVERSARY SONG. by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
On a Young Lady's Sixth Anniversary by Katherine Mansfield
(a lower case) Happy Anniversary by Raymond A. Foss
A Different Anniversary by Raymond A. Foss
Anniversary by Raymond A. Foss
Where Will They Attack by Raymond A. Foss
crematorium-return by Rg Gregory
The Anniversary by Robert William Service
Her Immortality by Thomas Hardy
Lausanne, In Gibbon's Old Garden: 11-12 p.m. by Thomas Hardy
For The Anniversary Of My Death by W. S. Merwin
Mentana : First Anniversary by Algernon Charles Swinburne
First Anniversary by Andrew Marvell
The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C. by Andrew Marvell
When I'm Sixty-Four by John Lennon and Paul McCartney
Wedlock by Benjamin Franklin
Love and Friendship by Emily Bronte
Marriage Morning by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
To My Wife by Oscar Wilde
To My Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet
The Prophet by Gibran Khalil Gibran
They Said We'd Never Make It by Nicholas Gordon
Happy Anniversary! by Nicholas Gordon
Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her by Christopher Brennan
A Valentine to My Wife by Eugene Field
Beautiful Dreamer by Stephen Foster
On A Wedding Anniversary by Dylan Thomas
The Anniversary by Robert William Service
Category : Anniversary Poems
'This bunch of violets,' he said, 'Is for my daughter dear. Since that glad morn when she was wed It is today a year. She lives atop this flight of stairs-- Please give an arm to me: If we can take her unawares How glad she'll be!'
We climbed the stairs; the flight was four, Our steps were stiff and slow; But as he reached his daughter's door His eyes were all aglow. Joylike he raised his hand to knock, Then sore distressed was I, For from the silence like a shock I heard a cry.
A drunken curse, a sob of woe . . . His withered face grew grey. 'I think,' said he, 'we'd better go And come another day.' And as he went a block with me, Walking with weary feet, His violets, I sighed to see, Bestrewed the street.
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