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Best Famous Patriotic Poems

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

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Written by Ellis Parker Butler |

Why Washington Retreated


Said Congress to George Washington:
 “To set this country free,
You’ll have to whip the Britishers
 And chase them o’er the sea.
” “Oh, very well,” said Washington, “I’ll do the best I can.
I’ll slam and bang those Britishers And whip them to a man.
” 1777 Said Congress to George Washington: “The people all complain; Why don’t you fight? You but retreat And then retreat again.
” “That can’t be helped,” said Washington, “As you will quite agree When you see how the novelists Have mixed up things for me.
” Said Congress to George Washington: “Pray make your meaning clear.
” Said Washington: “Why, certainly— But pray excuse this tear.
Of course we know,” said Washington, “The object of this war— It is to furnish novelists With patriotic lore.
” Said Congress to George Washington: “Yes! yes! but pray proceed.
” Said Washington: “My part in it Is difficult indeed, For every hero in the books Must sometime meet with me, And every sweet-faced heroine I must kiss gallantly.
” Said Congress to George Washington: “But why must you retreat?” Said Washington: “One moment, please, My story to complete.
These hero-folk are scattered through The whole United States; At every little country town A man or maiden waits.
” To Congress said George Washington: “At Harlem I must be On such a day to chat with one, And then I’ll have to flee With haste to Jersey, there to meet Another.
Here’s a list Of sixty-seven heroes, and There may be some I’ve missed.
” To Congress said George Washington: “Since I must meet them all (And if I don’t you know how flat The novels all will fall), I cannot take much time to fight, I must be on the run, Or some historic novelist Will surely be undone.
” Said Congress to George Washington: “You are a noble man.
Your thoughtfulness is notable, And we approve your plan; A battle won pads very well A novel that is thin, But it is better to retreat Than miss one man and win.
” Said Congress to George Washington: “Kiss every pretty maid, But do it in a courtly way And in a manner staid— And some day when your sword is sheathed And all our banners furled, A crop of novels will spring up That shall appal the world.

Written by Emily Dickinson |

There is a word

 There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man --
It hurls its barbed syllables
And is mute again --
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted Brother
Gave his breath away.
Wherever runs the breathless sun -- Wherever roams the day -- There is its noiseless onset -- There is its victory! Behold the keenest marksman! The most accomplished shot! Time's sublimest target Is a soul "forgot!"

Written by Robert William Service |

A Song Of The Sandbags

 No, Bill, I'm not a-spooning out no patriotic tosh
 (The cove be'ind the sandbags ain't a death-or-glory cuss).
And though I strafes 'em good and 'ard I doesn't 'ate the Boche, I guess they're mostly decent, just the same as most of us.
I guess they loves their 'omes and kids as much as you or me; And just the same as you or me they'd rather shake than fight; And if we'd 'appened to be born at Berlin-on-the-Spree, We'd be out there with 'Ans and Fritz, dead sure that we was right.
A-standin' up to the sandbags It's funny the thoughts wot come; Starin' into the darkness, 'Earin' the bullets 'um; (Zing! Zip! Ping! Rip! 'ark 'ow the bullets 'um!) A-leanin' against the sandbags Wiv me rifle under me ear, Oh, I've 'ad more thoughts on a sentry-go Than I used to 'ave in a year.
I wonder, Bill, if 'Ans and Fritz is wonderin' like me Wot's at the bottom of it all? Wot all the slaughter's for? 'E thinks 'e's right (of course 'e ain't) but this we both agree, If them as made it 'ad to fight, there wouldn't be no war.
If them as lies in feather beds while we kips in the mud; If them as makes their fortoons while we fights for 'em like 'ell; If them as slings their pot of ink just 'ad to sling their blood: By Crust! I'm thinkin' there 'ud be another tale to tell.
Shiverin' up to the sandbags, With a hicicle 'stead of a spine, Don't it seem funny the things you think 'Ere in the firin' line: (Whee! Whut! Ziz! Zut! Lord! 'ow the bullets whine!) Hunkerin' down when a star-shell Cracks in a sputter of light, You can jaw to yer soul by the sandbags Most any old time o' night.
They talks o' England's glory and a-'oldin' of our trade, Of Empire and 'igh destiny until we're fair flim-flammed; But if it's for the likes o' that that bloody war is made, Then wot I say is: Empire and 'igh destiny be damned! There's only one good cause, Bill, for poor blokes like us to fight: That's self-defence, for 'earth and 'ome, and them that bears our name; And that's wot I'm a-doin' by the sandbags 'ere to-night.
But Fritz out there will tell you 'e's a-doin' of the same.
Starin' over the sandbags, Sick of the 'ole damn thing; Firin' to keep meself awake, 'Earin' the bullets sing.
(Hiss! Twang! Tsing! Pang! Saucy the bullets sing.
) Dreamin' 'ere by the sandbags Of a day when war will cease, When 'Ans and Fritz and Bill and me Will clink our mugs in fraternity, And the Brotherhood of Labour will be The Brotherhood of Peace.

More great poems below...

Written by Elizabeth Jennings |

A Performance Of Henry V At Stratford-Upon-Avon

 Nature teaches us our tongue again
And the swift sentences came pat.
I came Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
And I seethed with language - Henry at Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war In Ireland and the Middle East.
Here was The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words Solid and dutiful.
Aspiring hope Met purpose in "advantages" and "He That fights with me today shall be my brother.
" Say this is patriotic, out of date.
But you are wrong.
It never is too late For nights of stars and feet that move to an Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked, The theatre is our treasury and too, Our study, school-room, house where mercy is Dispensed with justice.
Shakespeare has the mood And draws the music from the dullest heart.
This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb And unaccomplished.
Henry has the words For grief and we learn how to tell of death With dignity.
"All was as cold" she said "As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope For big or little deaths, increase, grow up To purposes and means to face events Of cruelty, stupidity.
I walked Fast under stars.
The Avon wandered on "Tomorrow and tomorrow".
Words aren't worn Out in this place but can renew our tongue, Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.

Written by Robert Desnos |


 What sort of arrow split the sky and this rock?
It's quivering, spreading like a peacock's fan
Like the mist around the shaft and knot less feathers
Of a comet come to nest at midnight.
How blood surges from the gaping wound, Lips already silencing murmur and cry.
One solemn finger holds back time, confusing The witness of the eyes where the deed is written.
Silence? We still know the passwords.
Lost sentinels far from the watch fires We smell the odor of honeysuckle and surf Rising in the dark shadows.
Distance, let dawn leap the void at last, And a single beam of light make a rainbow on the water Its quiver full of reeds, Sign of the return of archers and patriotic songs.

Written by Siegfried Sassoon |


 I found him in the guard-room at the Base.
From the blind darkness I had heard his crying And blundered in.
With puzzled, patient face A sergeant watched him; it was no good trying To stop it; for he howled and beat his chest.
And, all because his brother had gone west, Raved at the bleeding war; his rampant grief Moaned, shouted, sobbed, and choked, while he was kneeling Half-naked on the floor.
In my belief Such men have lost all patriotic feeling.