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Index of first lines

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Index of first lines

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A cold coming we had of it
A FORM, as any taper, fine
A GOOD WIF was ther of biside Bathe
A misremembered lyric: a soft catch of its song
A narrow fellow in the grass
A nasty surprise in a sandwich
A thousand martyrs I have made
A voice from the dark is calling me
About suffering they were never wrong
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
After the fair, I’d still a light heart
An age, in her embraces passed
An upper chamber in a darkened house
And then there was St Kevin and the blackbird
As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow
As some fond virgin, whom her mother’s care
As you came from the holy land
At news of her death
Before me lies a mass of shapeless days
Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode
Behold her, single in the field
Being moved into action, Sir Merrak met Mordred
Beyond the view of crossroads ringed with breath
Blackout is endemic to the land
Brixtan Prison
But that was nothing to what things came out
Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings
Cold in the earth–and the deep snow piled above thee!
Come when the nights are bright with stars
Condemn’d to hope’s delusive mine
Contemptuous of his home beyond
Criminal, you took a great piece of my life
Cut to the Fleet
Dearest, note how these two are alike
Dearest, the cockroaches are having babies
Drink to me only with thine eyes
Eagerly watched
Early morning over Rouen, hopeful, high, courageous morning
Ere all the world had grown so drear
Even now there are places where a thought might grow
Fine words won’t turn the icing pink
For I will consider my cat Jeoffrey
For no fictitious ills these numbers flow
For years afterwards the farmers found them
From harmony, from heavenly harmony
From time to time our love is like a sail
Gas-holders, russet among fields. Milldams, marlpools
Gather ye rose buds while ye may
Gold survives the fire that’s hot enough
Green Snake, when I hung you round my neck
Half my friends are dead
He added the final ‘e’
He did not wear his scarlet coat
He sipped at a weak hock and seltzer
He was the first always: Fortune
Hello, she said, and startled me. Nice day. Nice day I agreed.
Here are two pictures from my father’s head
Here they lie mottled to the ground unseen
Here lies, whom hound did ne’er pursue
His Grace! impossible! what dead!
Hours before dawn we were woken by the quake
I am spending my time imagining the worst that could happen
I am the Smoke King
I caught a tremendous fish
I could have been a builder
I don’t operate often. When I do
I found a ball of grass among the hay
I found the world’s pelt
I have come to the borders of sleep
I have lived in important places, times
I have never walked on Westminster Bridge
I have walked a great while over the snow
I hear the halting footsteps of a lass
I met a traveller from an antique land
I said, Ah! what shall I write?
I syng of a mayden
I took my oath  I would inquire
I was asleep in the middle of a pad
I was born a foreigner
I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I
I, being born a woman and distressed
I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle
I’m standing here inside my skin
I’ve seen it all, you know. Men.
In a coign of the cliff between lowland and highland
In silent night when rest I took
In summer’s heat and mid-time of the day
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
Is there a solitary wretch who hies
Is this the region, this the soil, the clime
Isolated here in the South, fiddling with British Rail
It crumbles
It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
It little profits that an idle king
It was a summer evening
It was the first gift he ever gave her
It’s no go the merry go round, it’s no go the rickshaw
’Ithin the woodlands, flow’ry gleaded
Let the world’s sharpness, like a clasping knife
Love bade me welcome. Yet my soul drew back
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
Love, we curve downwards, we are set tonight
Mary stood in the kitchen
mony klyf he ouerclambe in contrayez straunge
My father, in a white spacesuit
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My mother went with no more warning
My prime of youth is but a frost of cares
My soul looked down from a vague height, with Death
My true-love hath my heart and I have his
Nautilus Island’s hermit
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note
Not everyman has gentians in his house
Now in thy dazzling half-ope’d eye
Now that I’ve nearly done my days
‘O where ha’ye been, Lord Randall, my son?
Oh I am a cat that likes to
Oh, what a lantern, what a lamp of light
On a starred night Prince Lucifer up rose
Out of the night that covers me
Pass the tambourine, let me bash out praises
Poetry? It’s a hobby.
Proud Maisie is in the wood
Rose, harsh rose
Ruby and me stalking savannah
SAID the Lion to the Lioness–‘When you are amber dust
Sally is gone that was so kindly
Shape the lips to an o, say a
She picked me up
She stands and knows herself for the first time
Shut up. Shut up. There’s nobody here
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone
Sleep on my love in thy cold bed
Slowly the white dream wrestle(s) to life
So oft as I her beauty do behold
So we must say Goodbye, my darling
Sometimes in the over-heated house, but not for long
Stand up straight, my son. Don’t slouch
Stowed in the sea to invade
Tell me not here, it needs not saying
That van Gogh’s ear, set free
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold
The boy stood on the burning deck
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day
The day my father came back from the sea
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
The hearse has stalled in the lane overlooking the river
The last sun beam
The mountain sheep are sweeter
The Polar DEW has just warned that
The rain set early in tonight
The rapid cooling of this extraordinary glass drop leaves it in a state of
The sea is calm tonight
The singing stops. Each player finds his spot
The snail pushes through a green
The whiskey on your breath
There are strange Hells within the minds War made
There have been teeth
‘There is no God,’ the wicked saith
There lived a wife at Usher’s Well
There once was a country…I left it as a child
There was Dai Puw. He was no good.
There was no secret
There were never strawberries
There’s a country at my shoulder
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
They serve revolving saucer eyes
They shut the road through the woods
This darksome burn, horse back brown
This evening we are doing Pasternak
This house has been far out at sea all night
This is where the kitten died
‘This was Mr Bleaney’s room. He stayed
Through the open French window the warm sun
To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday
Top of the morning, Dogfood Family!
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
Under the parabola of a ball
We came from our own country in a red room
We met the British in the dead of winter
What on Earth deserves our trust?
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the
Whatever the difference is, it all began
When Love with unconfined wings
When men were all asleep the snow came flying
When my mother died I was very young
When suddenly, at midnight, you hear
When that I was and a little tiny boy
When thin-strewn memory I look through
Where the mountains crumbled
Where the remote Bermudas ride
Where’s Birmingham river? Sunk
While my hair was still cut straight across my forehead
Who does not wish, ever to judge a right
Whose broken window is a cry of art
Why will Delia thus retire
With walking sick, with curtseys lame
Women reminded him of lilies and roses
Wondering how a good woman can murder
WHAT YOU HAVE HEARD IS TRUE. I was in his house. His wife carried
Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
You are my secret coat. You’re never dry
‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said
You know that house she called home
You saw so much romance in competition

Sir Andrew Motion talks to us about his thoughts on Poetry By Heart, his experiences of judging and the criteria with examples of recitals from 2013!

Andrew Motion’s Judging Guidelines from Poetry By Heart on Vimeo.

 



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