Famous Sonnet Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Sonnet poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous sonnet poems. These examples illustrate what a famous sonnet poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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Banishment

by Siegfried Sassoon
 I am banished from the patient men who fight 
They smote my heart to pity, built my pride. 
Shoulder to aching shoulder, side by side, 
They trudged away from life’s broad wealds of light. 
Their wrongs were mine; and ever in my sight
They went arrayed in honour. But they died,— 
Not one by one: and mutinous I cried 
To...Read more of this...

Sonnet 52: So am I as the rich whose blessèd key

by William Shakespeare
 So am I as the rich whose blessèd key
Can bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming, in that long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placèd are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time...Read more of this...

My Most Distinguished Guest And Learned Friend

by Edna St. Vincent Millay
 My most Distinguished Guest and Learned Friend,
The pallid hare that runs before the day
Having brought your earnest counsels to an end
Now have I somewhat of my own to say:
That it is folly to be sunk in love,
And madness plain to make the matter known,
There are no mysteries you are verger of;
Everyman's wisdoms these are, and my own.
If I have...Read more of this...

On the Religious Memory of Mrs. Catherine Thomson my Christian Friend Deceased Dec. 16 1646

by John Milton
 When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, 
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever. 
Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, 
Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod; 
But, as Faith pointed with her...Read more of this...

Silet

by Ezra Pound
 When I behold how black, immortal ink
Drips from my deathless pen - ah, well-away!
Why should we stop at all for what I think?
There is enough in what I chance to say.

It is enough that we once came together;
What is the use of setting it to rime?
When it is autumn do we get spring weather,
Or gather may of harsh northwindish...Read more of this...

To Sr Henry Vane The Younger

by John Milton
 Vane, young in yeares, but in sage counsell old,
Then whome a better Senatour nere held
The helme of Rome, when gownes not armes repelld
The feirce Epeirot & the African bold,
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold
The drift of hollow states, hard to be spelld,
Then to advise how warr may best, upheld,
Move by her two maine nerves, Iron & Gold
In all...Read more of this...

The Barberry Bush

by Ralph Waldo Emerson
 The bush that has most briers and bitter fruit,
Wait till the frost has turned its green leaves red,
Its sweetened berries will thy palate suit,
And thou may'st find e'en there a homely bread.
Upon the hills of Salem scattered wide,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye in Spring;
And straggling e'en upon the turnpike's side,
Their ripened branches to your hand they bring,
I 've...Read more of this...

Sonnet 121: Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed

by William Shakespeare
 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.
For why should others' false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am...Read more of this...

Night-Piece

by Siegfried Sassoon
YE hooded witches baleful shapes that moan 
Quench your fantastic lanterns and be still;
For now the moon through heaven sails alone 
Shedding her peaceful rays from hill to hill.
The faun from out his dim and secret place 5
Draws nigh the darkling pool and from his dream
Half-wakens seeing there his sylvan face
Reflected and the wistful eyes that gleam.

To his cold lips...Read more of this...

Sonnet 4: Unthrifty loveliness why dost thou spend

by William Shakespeare
 Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free.
Then, beauteous niggard why dost thou abuse,
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy...Read more of this...

Italia

by Oscar Wilde
 Italia! thou art fallen, though with sheen
Of battle-spears thy clamorous armies stride
From the north Alps to the Sicilian tide!
Ay! fallen, though the nations hail thee Queen
Because rich gold in every town is seen,
And on thy sapphire-lake in tossing pride
Of wind-filled vans thy myriad galleys ride
Beneath one flag of red and white and green.
O Fair and Strong! O Strong and...Read more of this...

Objector

by William Stafford
 In line at lunch I cross my fork and spoon
to ward off complicity--the ordered life
our leaders have offered us. Thin as a knife,
our chance to live depends on such a sign
while others talk and The Pentagon from the moon
is bouncing exact commands: "Forget your faith;
be ready for whatever it takes to win: we face
annihilation unless all citizens get in...Read more of this...

Sonnet 27: Weary with toil I haste me to my bed

by William Shakespeare
 Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear respose for limbs with travel tirèd;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expirèd.
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see;
Save that my soul's...Read more of this...

Sonnet XLIV

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET XLIV. Mie venture al venir son tarde e pigre. FEW ARE THE SWEETS, BUT MANY THE BITTERS OF LOVE.  Ever my hap is slack and slow in coming,Desire increasing, ay my hope uncertainWith doubtful love, that but increaseth pain;For, tiger-like, so swift it is in parting.Alas! the snow black shall...Read more of this...

Sonnet LX

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET LX. Ite, rime dolenti, al duro sasso. HE PRAYS THAT SHE WILL BE NEAR HIM AT HIS DEATH, WHICH HE FEELS APPROACHING.  Go, plaintive verse, to the cold marble go,Which hides in earth my treasure from these eyes;[Pg 291]There call on her who answers from yon skies,Although the...Read more of this...

Sonnet XXXVI

by Edmund Spenser
 TEll me when shall these wearie woes haue end,
Or shall their ruthlesse torment neuer cease:
but al my dayes in pining languor spend,
without hope of aswagement or release.
Is there no meanes for me to purchace peace,
or make agreement with her thrilling eyes:
but that their cruelty doth still increace,
and dayly more augment my miseryes.
But when ye haue shewed all extremityes,
then thinke...Read more of this...

Patria

by Henry Van Dyke
 I would not even ask my heart to say
If I could love some other land as well
As thee, my country, had I felt the spell
Of Italy at birth, or learned to obey
The charm of France, or England's mighty sway.
I would not be so much an infidel
As once to dream, or fashion words to tell,
What land could hold my love...Read more of this...

Sonnet CLXXX

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CLXXX. Tutto 'l di piango; e poi la notte, quando. HER CRUELTY RENDERS LIFE WORSE THAN DEATH TO HIM.  Through the long lingering day, estranged from rest,My sorrows flow unceasing; doubly flow,Painful prerogative of lover's woe!In that still hour, when slumber soothes th' unblest.With such deep anguish is my heart...Read more of this...

Sonnet CXV

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET CXV. Quando 'l voler, che con duo sproni ardenti. HER LOOKS BOTH COMFORT AND CHECK HIM.  When, with two ardent spurs and a hard rein,Passion, my daily life who rules and leads,From time to time the usual law exceedsThat calm, at least in part, my spirits may gain,It findeth her...Read more of this...

Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse

by William Shakespeare
 I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days.
And do so, love, yet when they have...Read more of this...

From you have I been absent in the spring... (Sonnet 98)

by William Shakespeare
 From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where...Read more of this...

The Plantsters Vision

by John Betjeman
 Cut down that timber! Bells, too many and strong,
 Pouring their music through the branches bare,
 From moon-white church towers down the windy air
Have pealed the centuries out with Evensong.

Remove those cottages, a huddled throng!
 Too many babies have been born in there,
 Too many coffins, bumping down the stair,
Carried the old their garden paths along.

I have a Vision...Read more of this...

Ser poeta

by Florbela Espanca
Ser poeta é ser mais alto, é ser maior
Do que os homens! Morder como quem beija!
É ser mendigo e dar como quem seja
Rei do Reino de Aquém e de Além Dor!

É ter de mil desejos o esplendor
E não saber sequer que se deseja!
É ter cá dentro um astro que flameja,
É ter garras e asas de condor!

É ter fome, é ter...Read more of this...

Sonnet XXII

by Francesco Petrarch
SONNET XXII. Più di me lieta non si vede a terra. ON THE SAME SUBJECT.  Than me more joyful never reach'd the shoreA vessel, by the winds long tost and tried,Whose crew, late hopeless on the waters wide,To a good God their thanks, now prostrate, pour;Nor captive from his dungeon ever...Read more of this...

Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new but that which is

by William Shakespeare
 If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled,
Which, labouring for invention bear amis
The second burthen of a former child!
O, that record could with a backward look,
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind at first in character was done.
That I might see what...Read more of this...

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