Poems About Sad
A Sad Child
by Margaret Atwood
You're sad because you're sad.
It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical.
Go see a shrink or take a pill,
or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll...
A Fairly Sad Tale
by Dorothy Parker
I think that I shall never know
Why I am thus, and I am so.
Around me, other girls inspire
In men the rush and roar of fire,...
‘and Ask Ye Why These Sad Tears Stream?’
by Alfred Lord Tennyson
'And ask ye why these sad tears stream?'
‘Te somnia nostra reducunt.’
The Sad Mother
by Gabriela Mistral
Sleep, sleep, my beloved,
without worry, without fear,
although my soul does not sleep,
although I do not rest....
Be Not Sad
by James Joyce
Be not sad because all men
Prefer a lying clamour before you:
Sweetheart, be at peace again -- -
Can they dishonour you?...
A Sad State Of Freedom
by Nazim Hikmet
You waste the attention of your eyes,
the glittering labour of your hands,
and knead the dough enough for dozens of loaves
of which you'll taste not a morsel;...
Sad In Blue (A Lyric)
by Peter S. Quinn
Sad sad sad in blue
For sad sad sad you
The moon is all bluish tonight
The night is all dark out side...
by Cristina Geanta
sad for all the time my embrace was empty of you
sad for being stubborn to be sad
sad for touching objects baring your presence...
To A Sad Daughter
by Michael Ondaatje
All night long the hockey pictures
gaze down at you
sleeping in your tracksuit.
Belligerent goalies are your ideal....
For A Sad Lady
by Dorothy Parker
In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad
by Alfred Edward Housman
In my own shire, if I was sad,
Homely comforters I had:
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;...
Baseball's Sad Lexicon
by Franklin Pierce Adams
These are the saddest of possible words:
Tinker to Evers to Chance.
Trio of Bear-cubs, fleeter than birds,
Tinker to Evers to Chance....
Sad-Eyed And Soft And Grey
by William Morris
Sad-Eyed and soft and grey thou art, o morn!
Across the long grass of the marshy plain
Thy west wind whispers of the coming rain,
Thy lark forgets that May is grown forlorn...
With How Sad Steps, O Moon, Thou Climb'st The Sky
by William Wordsworth
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the sky,
"How silently, and with how wan a face!"
Where art thou? Thou so often seen on high
Running among the clouds a Wood-nymph's race!...
Close Those Sad Sad Eyes
by Beautiful Grim
Close those sad sad eyes girl,
and let your feelings wash away,
Bring up nothing more than what you want to say,
So close those sad sad eyes girl,...
Sit Down, Sad Soul
by Barry Cornwall
SIT down, sad soul, and count
The moments flying:
Come,—tell the sweet amount
That ’s lost by sighing!...
To The Sad Moon
by Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?...
Sad Is Stupid
by Alison Cassidy
I'm sorry you're sad
'I'm not sad.
Don't use that word....
Sad Green Eyes
by Linda Ori
You look at me with sad green eyes,
I'm overcome with feeling-
Such deep emotion they disguise,
Yet send my senses reeling; They speak to me of loneliness...
My Sad Captains
by Thom Gunn
One by one they appear in
the darkness: a few friends, and
a few with historical
names. How late they start to shine!...
The Journey Of A Poem Compared To All The Sad Variety Of Travel
by Delmore Schwartz
A poem moves forward,
Like the passages and percussions of trains in progress
A pattern of recurrence, a hammer of repetetiveoccurrence...
Weep You No More, Sad Fountains
by Anonymous Olde English
Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste....
Bored And Sad
by Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov
It's boring and sad, and there's no one around
In times of my spirit's travail...
Desires!...What use is our vain and eternal desire?..
While years pass on by - all the best years!...
Peacock Story 8 - A Sad Poem
by Alison Cassidy
five freckled eggs
nestled under warm feathers...
The Bad Season Makes The Poet Sad
by Robert Herrick
Dull to myself, and almost dead to these,
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since every thing
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing....