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Best Famous Stevie Smith Poems

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

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by Stevie Smith | |

Conviction (iv)

 I like to get off with people,
I like to lie in their arms
I like to be held and lightly kissed,
Safe from all alarms.
I like to laugh and be happy With a beautiful kiss, I tell you, in all the world There is no bliss like this.


by Stevie Smith | |

Conviction (ii)

 I walked abroad in Easter Park,
I heard the wild dog's distant bark,
I knew my Lord was risen again, -
Wild dog, wild dog, you bark in vain.


by Stevie Smith | |

Alone In The Woods

 Alone in the woods I felt
The bitter hostility of the sky and the trees
Nature has taught her creatures to hate
Man that fusses and fumes
Unquiet man
As the sap rises in the trees
As the sap paints the trees a violent green
So rises the wrath of Nature's creatures
At man
So paints the face of Nature a violent green.
Nature is sick at man Sick at his fuss and fume Sick at his agonies Sick at his gaudy mind That drives his body Ever more quickly More and more In the wrong direction.


by Stevie Smith | |

Never Again

 Never again will I weep
And wring my hands
And beat my head against the wall
Because
Me nolentem fata trahunt
But
When I have had enough
I will arise
And go unto my Father
And I will say to Him:
Father, I have had enough.


by Stevie Smith | |

The Reason

 My life is vile
 I hate it so
 I'll wait awhile
 And then I'll go.
Why wait at all? Hope springs alive, Good may befall I yet may thrive.
It is because I can't make up my mind If God is good, impotent or unkind.


by Stevie Smith | |

Conviction (iii)

 The shadow was so black,
I thought it was a cat,
But once in to it
I knew it
No more black
Than a shadow's back.
Illusion is a freak Of mind; The cat's to seek.


by Stevie Smith | |

The Pleasures Of Friendship

 The pleasures of friendship are exquisite,
How pleasant to go to a friend on a visit!
I go to my friend, we walk on the grass,
And the hours and moments like minutes pass.


by Stevie Smith | |

Not Waving But Drowning

 Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.


by Stevie Smith | |

Happiness

 Happiness is silent, or speaks equivocally for friends,
Grief is explicit and her song never ends,
Happiness is like England, and will not state a case,
Grief, like Guilt, rushes in and talks apace.


by Stevie Smith | |

Conviction (i)

 Christ died for God and me
Upon the crucifixion tree
For God a spoken Word
For me a Sword
For God a hymn of praise
For me eternal days
For God an explanation
For me salvation.


by Stevie Smith | |

In The Night

 I longed for companionship rather,
But my companions I always wished farther.
And now in the desolate night I think only of the people i should like to bite.


by Stevie Smith | |

Mother Among The Dustbins

 Mother, among the dustbins and the manure
I feel the measure of my humanity, an allure
As of the presence of God, I am sure

In the dustbins, in the manure, in the cat at play,
Is the presence of God, in a sure way
He moves there.
Mother, what do you say? I too have felt the presence of God in the broom I hold, in the cobwebs in the room, But most of all in the silence of the tomb.
Ah! but that thought that informs the hope of our kind Is but an empty thing, what lies behind? -- Naught but the vanity of a protesting mind That would not die.
This is the thought that bounces Within a conceited head and trounces Inquiry.
Man is most frivolous when he pronounces.
Well Mother, I shall continue to think as I do, And I think you would be wise to do so too, Can you question the folly of man in the creation of God? Who are you?


by Stevie Smith | |

I Do Not Speak

 I do not ask for mercy for understanding for peace
And in these heavy days I do not ask for release
I do not ask that suffering shall cease.
I do not pray to God to let me die To give an ear attentive to my cry To pause in his marching and not hurry by.
I do not ask for anything I do not speak I do not question and I do not seek I used to in the day when I was weak.
Now I am strong and lapped in sorrow As in a coat of magic mail and borrow From Time today and care not for tomorrow.


by Stevie Smith | |

Drugs Made Pauline Vague

 Drugs made Pauline vague.
She sat one day at the breakfast table Fingering in a baffled way The fronds of the maidenhair plant.
Was it the salt you were looking for dear? said Dulcie, exchanging a glance with the Brigadier.
Chuff chuff Pauline what's the matter? Said the Brigadier to his wife Who did not even notice What a handsome couple they made.


by Stevie Smith | |

Nor We Of Her To Him

 He said no word of her to us
Nor we of her to him,
But oh it saddened us to see
How wan he grew and thin.
We said: she eats him day and night And draws the blood from him, We did not know but said we thought This was why he grew thin.
One day we called and rang the bell, No answer came within, We said: She must have took him off To the forest old and grim, It has fell out, we said, that she Eats him in forest grim, And how can we help him being eaten Up in forests grim? It is a restless time we spend, We have no help from him, We walk about and go to bed, It is no help to him.
Sometimes we shake our heads and say It might have better been If he had spoke of us to her Or we of her to him.
Which makes us feel helpful, until The silence comes again.


by Stevie Smith | |

Sunt Leones

 The lions who ate the Christians on the sands of the arena
By indulging native appetites played was now been seen a
Not entirely negligible part
In consolidating at the very start
The position of the Early Christian Church.
Initiatory rights are always bloody In the lions, it appears From contemporary art, made a study Of dyeing Coliseum sands a ruddy Liturgically sacrificial hue And if the Christians felt a little blue- Will people being eaten often do.
Theirs was the death, and there's was a crown undying, A state of things which must be satisfying.
My point which up to this has been obscured Is that it was the lions who procured By chewing up blood gristle flesh and bone The martyrdoms on which the church has grown.
I only write this poem because I thought it rather looked As if the part the lions played was being overlooked.
By lions' jaws great benefits and blessings were begotten And so our debt to Lionhood must never be forgotten.


by Stevie Smith | |

Tenuous And Precarious

 Tenuous and Precarious
Were my guardians,
Precarious and Tenuous,
Two Romans.
My father was Hazardous, Hazardous Dear old man, Three Romans.
There was my brother Spurious, Spurious Posthumous, Spurious was Spurious, Was four Romans.
My husband was Perfidious, He was Perfidious Five Romans.
Surreptitious, our son, Was Surreptitious, He was six Romans.
Our cat Tedious Still lives, Count not Tedious Yet.
My name is Finis, Finis, Finis, I am Finis, Six, five, four, three, two, One Roman, Finis.


by Stevie Smith | |

Our Bog Is Dood

 Our Bog is dood, our Bog is dood,
They lisped in accents mild,
But when I asked them to explain
They grew a little wild.
How do you know your Bog is dood My darling little child? We know because we wish it so That is enough, they cried, And straight within each infant eye Stood up the flame of pride, And if you do not think it so You shall be crucified.
Then tell me, darling little ones, What's dood, suppose Bog is? Just what we think, the answer came, Just what we think it is.
They bowed their heads.
Our Bog is ours And we are wholly his.
But when they raised them up again They had forgotten me Each one upon each other glared In pride and misery For what was dood, and what their Bog They never could agree.
Oh sweet it was to leave them then, And sweeter not to see, And sweetest of all to walk alone Beside the encroaching sea, The sea that soon should drown them all, That never yet drowned me.


by Stevie Smith | |

I Remember

 It was my bridal night I remember,
An old man of seventy-three
I lay with my young bride in my arms,
A girl with t.
b.
It was wartime, and overhead The Germans were making a particularly heavy raid on Hampstead.
What rendered the confusion worse, perversely Our bombers had chosen that moment to set out for Germany.
Harry, do they ever collide? I do not think it has ever happened, Oh my bride, my bride.


by Stevie Smith | |

The Jungle Husband

 Dearest Evelyn, I often think of you
Out with the guns in the jungle stew
Yesterday I hittapotamus
I put the measurements down for you but they got lost in the fuss
It's not a good thing to drink out here
You know, I've practically given it up dear.
Tomorrow I am going alone a long way Into the jungle.
It is all grey But green on top Only sometimes when a tree has fallen The sun comes down plop, it is quite appalling.
You never want to go in a jungle pool In the hot sun, it would be the act of a fool Because it's always full of anacondas, Evelyn, not looking ill-fed I'll say.
So no more now, from your loving husband Wilfred.