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Best Famous Anacreon Poems

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

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See also: Best Member Poems

by Francis Scott Key | |

Defence of Fort MHenry

 Tune -- ANACREON IN HEAVEN 
O! say can you see, by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there --
O! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?
On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines on the stream --
'Tis the star-spangled banner, O! long may it wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havock of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has wash'd out their foul foot-steps' pollution, No refuge could save the hireling and slave, From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave; And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.
O! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand Between their lov'd home, and the war's desolation, Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the power that hath made and preserv'd us a nation! Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, And this be our motto -- "In God is our trust!" And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | |

ANACREONS GRAVE.

 HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are 
twining,

Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard,
Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals

Beauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep
Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,

And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last.
1789.
*


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe | |

TO THE GRASSHOPPER.

 AFTER ANACREON.
[The strong resemblance of this fine poem to Cowley's Ode bearing the same name, and beginning "Happy insect! what can be," will be at once seen.
] HAPPY art thou, darling insect, Who, upon the trees' tall branches, By a modest draught inspired, Singing, like a monarch livest! Thou possessest as thy portion All that on the plains thou seest, All that by the hours is brought thee 'Mongst the husbandmen thou livest, As a friend, uninjured by them, Thou whom mortals love to honour, Herald sweet of sweet Spring's advent! Yes, thou'rt loved by all the Muses, Phoebus' self, too, needs must love thee; They their silver voices gave thee, Age can never steal upon thee.
Wise and gentle friend of poets, Born a creature fleshless, bloodless, Though Earth's daughter, free from suff'ring, To the gods e'en almost equal.
1781.


More great poems below...

by Lew Welch | |

Taxi Suite (excerpt: 1. After Anacreon)

 When I drive cab
I am moved by strange whistles and wear a hat

When I drive cab
I am the hunter.
My prey leaps out from where it hid, beguiling me with gestures When I drive cab all may command me, yet I am in command of all who do When I drive cab I am guided by voices descending from the naked air When I drive cab A revelation of movement comes to me.
They wake now.
Now they want to work or look around.
Now they want drunkenness and heavy food.
Now they contrive to love.
When I drive cab I bring the sailor home from the sea.
In the back of my car he fingers the pelt of his maiden When I drive cab I watch for stragglers in the urban order of things.
When I drive cab I end the only lit and waitful things in miles of darkened houses


by Robert Herrick | |

A Lyric to Mirth

 While the milder fates consent,
Let's enjoy our merriment :
Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ;
Kiss our dollies night and day :
Crowned with clusters of the vine,
Let us sit, and quaff our wine.
Call on Bacchus, chant his praise ; Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays : Rouse Anacreon from the dead, And return him drunk to bed : Sing o'er Horace, for ere long Death will come and mar the song : Then shall Wilson and Gotiere Never sing or play more here.


by Robert Herrick | |

AN ODE TO SIR CLIPSBY CREW

 Here we securely live, and eat
The cream of meat;
And keep eternal fires,
By which we sit, and do divine,
As wine
And rage inspires.
If full, we charm; then call upon Anacreon To grace the frantic Thyrse: And having drunk, we raise a shout Throughout, To praise his verse.
Then cause we Horace to be read, Which sung or said, A goblet, to the brim, Of lyric wine, both swell'd and crown'd, Around We quaff to him.
Thus, thus we live, and spend the hours In wine and flowers; And make the frolic year, The month, the week, the instant day To stay The longer here.
--Come then, brave Knight, and see the cell Wherein I dwell; And my enchantments too; Which love and noble freedom is:-- And this Shall fetter you.
Take horse, and come; or be so kind To send your mind, Though but in numbers few:-- And I shall think I have the heart Or part Of Clipsby Crew.