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Famous Short Loneliness Poems

Famous Short Loneliness Poems. Short Loneliness Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Loneliness short poems

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Loneliness | Short Famous Poems and Poets

by Emily Dickinson

Of so divine a Loss

 Of so divine a Loss
We enter but the Gain,
Indemnity for Loneliness
That such a Bliss has been.

by Emily Dickinson

I hide myself within my flower

 I hide myself within my flower,
That fading from your Vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me --
Almost a loneliness.

by Emily Dickinson

Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell

 Could that sweet Darkness where they dwell
Be once disclosed to us
The clamor for their loveliness
Would burst the Loneliness --

by Rg Gregory


 loneliness is a state
the lonely cannot reach

it carries a grandeur
that doesn't fit into

bed-sitters or rejected
ideas - it's the label stuck

on the bottle after
the tables have gone

by Emily Dickinson

There is another Loneliness

 There is another Loneliness
That many die without --
Not want of friend occasions it
Or circumstances of Lot

But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought
And whoso it befall
Is richer than could be revealed
By mortal numeral --

by William Butler Yeats

Loves Loneliness

 Old fathers, great-grandfathers,
Rise as kindred should.
If ever lover's loneliness Came where you stood, Pray that Heaven protect us That protect your blood.
The mountain throws a shadow, Thin is the moon's horn; What did we remember Under the ragged thorn? Dread has followed longing, And our hearts are torn.

by Carl Sandburg


 ROSES and gold
For you today,
And the flash of flying flags.
I will have Ashes, Dust in my hair, Crushes of hoofs.
Your name Fills the mouth Of rich man and poor.
Women bring Armfuls of flowers And throw on you.
I go hungry Down in dreams And loneliness, Across the rain To slashed hills Where men wait and hope for me.

by Emily Dickinson

Further in Summer than the Birds

 Further in Summer than the Birds
Pathetic from the Grass
A minor Nation celebrates
Its unobtrusive Mass.
No Ordinance be seen So gradual the Grace A pensive Custom it becomes Enlarging Loneliness.
Antiquest felt at Noon When August burning low Arise this spectral Canticle Repose to typify Remit as yet no Grace No Furrow on the Glow Yet a Druidic Difference Enhances Nature now

by Emily Dickinson

The Snow that never drifts --

 The Snow that never drifts --
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now --

So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was February's Foot
Experience would swear --

Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature's Alibit --

Were every storm so spice
The Value could not be --
We buy with contrast -- Pang is good
As near as memory --

by Emily Dickinson

The Loneliness One dare not sound --

 The Loneliness One dare not sound --
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size --

The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see --
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny --

The Horror not to be surveyed --
But skirted in the Dark --
With Consciousness suspended --
And Being under Lock --

I fear me this -- is Loneliness --
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate -- or seal --

by Emily Dickinson

It might be lonelier

 It might be lonelier
Without the Loneliness --
I'm so accustomed to my Fate --
Perhaps the Other -- Peace --

Would interrupt the Dark --
And crowd the little Room --
Too scant -- by Cubits -- to contain
The Sacrament -- of Him --

I am not used to Hope --
It might intrude upon --
Its sweet parade -- blaspheme the place --
Ordained to Suffering --

It might be easier
To fail -- with Land in Sight --
Than gain -- My Blue Peninsula --
To perish -- of Delight --

by Carl Sandburg


 The young child, Christ, is straight and wise
And asks questions of the old men, questions
Found under running water for all children
And found under shadows thrown on still waters
By tall trees looking downward, old and gnarled.
Found to the eyes of children alone, untold, Singing a low song in the loneliness.
And the young child, Christ, goes on asking And the old men answer nothing and only know love For the young child.
Christ, straight and wise.

by Stephen Crane

I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night

 I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night,
The sweep of each sad lost wave,
The dwindling boom of the steel thing's striving,
The little cry of a man to a man,
A shadow falling across the greyer night,
And the sinking of the small star;
Then the waste, the far waste of waters,
And the soft lashing of black waves
For long and in loneliness.
Remember, thou, O ship of love, Thou leavest a far waste of waters, And the soft lashing of black waves For long and in loneliness.

by Louise Gluck

The Fear Of Burial

 In the empty field, in the morning,
the body waits to be claimed.
The spirit sits beside it, on a small rock-- nothing comes to give it form again.
Think of the body's loneliness.
At night pacing the sheared field, its shadow buckled tightly around.
Such a long journey.
And already the remote, trembling lights of the village not pausing for it as they scan the rows.
How far away they seem, the wooden doors, the bread and milk laid like weights on the table.