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Famous Short Hate Poems. Short Hate Poetry by Famous Poets

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

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

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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 Emily Dickinson

Mine Enemy is growing old --

 Mine Enemy is growing old --
I have at last Revenge --
The Palate of the Hate departs --
If any would avenge

Let him be quick -- the Viand flits --
It is a faded Meat --
Anger as soon as fed is dead --
'Tis starving makes it fat --


by Emily Dickinson

I had no time to hate because

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
Nor had I time to love, but since Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, Was large enough for me.


by Emily Dickinson

I had no time to Hate

 I had no time to Hate --
Because
The Grave would hinder Me --
And Life was not so
Ample I
Could finish -- Enmity --

Nor had I time to Love --
But since
Some Industry must be --
The little Toil of Love --
I thought
Be large enough for Me --


by Emily Dickinson

The Rat is the concisest Tenant.

 The Rat is the concisest Tenant.
He pays no Rent.
Repudiates the Obligation -- On Schemes intent Balking our Wit To sound or circumvent -- Hate cannot harm A Foe so reticent -- Neither Decree prohibit him -- Lawful as Equilibrium.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THE RULE OF LIFE.

 IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care,
Let not the past torment thee e'er;
As little as possible be thou annoy'd,
And let the present be ever enjoy'd;
Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied,
And to God the future confide.
1815.
*


by Robert Frost

Fire and Ice

 Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.


by Walter Savage Landor

The Evening Star

 Smiles soon abate; the boisterous throes 
Of anger long burst forth; 
Inconstantly the south-wind blows, 
But steadily the north.
Thy star, O Venus! often changes Its radiant seat above, The chilling pole-star never ranges -- 'Tis thus with Hate and Love.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

GENIAL IMPULSE.

 THUS roll I, never taking ease,
My tub, like Saint Diogenes,
Now serious am, now seek to please;
Now love and hate in turn one sees;
The motives now are those, now these;
Now nothings, now realities.
Thus roll I, never taking ease, My tub, like Saint Diogenes.
1810.


by Frank O'Hara

Spleen

I know so much
about things I accept
so much it's like
vomiting.
And I am nourished by the shabbiness of my knowing so much about others and what they do and accepting so much that I hate as if I didn't know what it is to me.
And what it is to them I know and hate.


by George William Russell

Recall

 WHAT call may draw thee back again,
 Lost dove, what art, what charm may please?
The tender touch, the kiss, are vain,
 For thou wert lured away by these.
Oh, must we use the iron hand, And mask with hate the holy breath, With alien voice give love’s command, As they through love the call of death?


by Stephen Crane

And the sins of the fathers shall be

 "And the sins of the fathers shall be
visited upon the heads of the children,
even unto the third and fourth
generation of them that hate me.
" Well, then I hate thee, unrighteous picture; Wicked image, I hate thee; So, strike with thy vengeance The heads of those little men Who come blindly.
It will be a brave thing.


by Countee Cullen

For A Poet

 I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold;
Where long will cling the lips of the moth,
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;
I hide no hate; I am not even wroth
Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold;
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,
And laid them away in a box of gold.


by Carl Sandburg

Broadway

 I SHALL never forget you, Broadway
Your golden and calling lights.
I'll remember you long, Tall-walled river of rush and play.
Hearts that know you hate you And lips that have given you laughter Have gone to their ashes of life and its roses, Cursing the dreams that were lost In the dust of your harsh and trampled stones.


by Charles Bukowski

Trapped

 don't undress my love
you might find a mannequin:
don't undress the mannequin 
you might find
my love.
she's long ago forgotten me.
she's trying on a new hat and looks more the coquette than ever.
she is a child and a mannequin and death.
I can't hate that.
she didn't do anything unusual.
I only wanted her to.


by John McCrae

Quebec

 -1908



Of old, like Helen, guerdon of the strong --
Like Helen fair, like Helen light of word, --
"The spoils unto the conquerors belong.
Who winneth me must win me by the sword.
" Grown old, like Helen, once the jealous prize That strong men battled for in savage hate, Can she look forth with unregretful eyes, Where sleep Montcalm and Wolfe beside her gate?


by Vachel Lindsay

What the Coal-Heaver Said

 The moon's an open furnace door
Where all can see the blast,
We shovel in our blackest griefs,
Upon that grate are cast
Our aching burdens, loves and fears
And underneath them wait
Paper and tar and pitch and pine
Called strife and blood and hate.
Out of it all there comes a flame, A splendid widening light.
Sorrow is turned to mystery And Death into delight.


by Robert Frost

Stars

 How countlessly they congregate
O'er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
When wintry winds do blow!--

As if with keeness for our fate,
Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
Invisible at dawn,--

And yet with neither love nor hate,
Those starts like somw snow-white
Minerva's snow-white marble eyes
Without the gift of sight.


by Robert Burns

7. Ah woe is me my Mother dear

 AH, woe is me, my mother dear!
 A man of strife ye’ve born me:
For sair contention I maun bear;
 They hate, revile, and scorn me.
I ne’er could lend on bill or band, That five per cent.
might blest me; And borrowing, on the tither hand, The deil a ane wad trust me.
Yet I, a coin-deni?d wight, By Fortune quite discarded; Ye see how I am, day and night, By lad and lass blackguarded!


by Carl Sandburg

Choices

 They offer you many things,
I a few.
Moonlight on the play of fountains at night With water sparkling a drowsy monotone, Bare-shouldered, smiling women and talk And a cross-play of loves and adulteries And a fear of death and a remembering of regrets: All this they offer you.
I come with: salt and bread a terrible job of work and tireless war; Come and have now: hunger.
danger and hate.


by Herman Melville

Art

 In placid hours well-pleased we dream 
Of many a brave unbodied scheme.
But form to lend, pulsed life create, What unlike things must meet and mate: A flame to melt--a wind to freeze; Sad patience--joyous energies; Humility--yet pride and scorn; Instinct and study; love and hate; Audacity--reverence.
These must mate, And fuse with Jacob's mystic heart, To wrestle with the angel--Art.


by Henry David Thoreau

Indeed indeed I cannot tell

 Indeed, indeed, I cannot tell,
Though I ponder on it well,
Which were easier to state,
All my love or all my hate.
Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me When I say thou dost disgust me.
O, I hate thee with a hate That would fain annihilate; Yet sometimes against my will, My dear friend, I love thee still.
It were treason to our love, And a sin to God above, One iota to abate Of a pure impartial hate.


by Ernest Dowson

Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam

 They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, 
 Love and desire and hate: 
I think they have no portion in us after 
 We pass the gate.
They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for a while, then closes Within a dream.
[The title translates, from the Latin, as 'The brief sum of life forbids us the hope of enduring long' and is from a work by Horace]


by Christopher Marlowe

Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?

 It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?


by Christopher Marlowe

Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?

 It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin, We wish that one should love, the other win; And one especially do we affect Of two gold ingots, like in each respect: The reason no man knows; let it suffice What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?


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