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Best Famous Hilaire Belloc Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Hilaire Belloc poems. This is a select list of the best famous Hilaire Belloc poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Hilaire Belloc poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of Hilaire Belloc poems.

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by Hilaire Belloc |

September

 Lo! a ripe sheaf of many golden days 
Gleaned by the year in autumn's harvest ways, 
With here and there, blood-tinted as an ember, 
Some crimson poppy of a late delight 
Atoning in its splendor for the flight 
Of summer blooms and joys­
This is September.


by Hilaire Belloc |

October

 Beauty has a tarnished dress, 
And a patchwork cloak of cloth 
Dipped deep in mournfulness, 
Striped like a moth.

Wet grass where it trails 
Dyes it green along the hem; 
She has seven silver veils 
With cracked bells on them.

She is tired of all these-- 
Grey gauze, translucent lawn; 
The broad cloak of Herakles. 
Is tangled flame and fawn.

Water and light are wearing thin: 
She has drawn above her head 
The warm enormous lion skin 
Rough red and gold.


by Hilaire Belloc |

On Two Ministers of State

 Lump says that Caliban's of gutter breed,
And Caliban says Lump's a fool indeed,
And Caliban and Lump and I are all agreed.


by Hilaire Belloc |

The Marmozet

 The species Man and Marmozet
Are intimately linked;
The Marmozet survives as yet,
But Men are all extinct.


by Hilaire Belloc |

The Dromedary

 The Dromedary is a cheerful bird:
I cannot say the same about the Kurd.


by Hilaire Belloc |

Is there any reward?

 Is there any reward?
I'm beginning to doubt it.
I am broken and bored,
Is there any reward
Reassure me, Good Lord,
And inform me about it.
Is there any reward?
I'm beginning to doubt it.


by Hilaire Belloc |

The Lion

 Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan!
He was eaten by a lion;
Following which, the lion's lioness
Up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness.


by Hilaire Belloc |

The Hippopotamus

 Behold the hippopotamus!
We laugh at how he looks to us,
And yet in moments dank and grim,
I wonder how we look to him.

Peace, peace, thou hippopotamus!
We really look all right to us,
As you no doubt delight the eye
Of other hippopotami.


by Hilaire Belloc |

October

 The green elm with the one great bough of gold 
Lets leaves into the grass slip, one by one, -- 
The short hill grass, the mushrooms small milk-white, 
Harebell and scabious and tormentil, 
That blackberry and gorse, in dew and sun, 
Bow down to; and the wind travels too light 
To shake the fallen birch leaves from the fern; 
The gossamers wander at their own will. 
At heavier steps than birds' the squirrels scold. 
The rich scene has grown fresh again and new 
As Spring and to the touch is not more cool 
Than it is warm to the gaze; and now I might 
As happy be as earth is beautiful, 
Were I some other or with earth could turn 
In alternation of violet and rose, 
Harebell and snowdrop, at their season due, 
And gorse that has no time not to be gay. 
But if this be not happiness, -- who knows? 
Some day I shall think this a happy day, 
And this mood by the name of melancholy 
Shall no more blackened and obscured be.


by Hilaire Belloc |

The Hippopotamus

 I shoot the Hippopotamus
With bullets made of platinum,
Because if I use leaden ones
His hide is sure to flatten 'em.