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Famous Short Leaving Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages

More great short poems below.

Leaving | Short Famous Poems and Poets

by Omar Khayyam

Alas! my wasted life has gone to wrack!

Alas! my wasted life has gone to wrack!
What with forbidden meats, and lusts, alack!
And leaving undone what 'twas right to do,
And doing wrong, my face is very black!

by Omar Khayyam

'Tis but a day we sojourn here below,

'Tis but a day we sojourn here below,
And all the gain we get is grief and woe,
And then, leaving life's riddles all unsolved,
And burdened with regrets, we have to go.

by Emily Dickinson

That is solemn we have ended

 That is solemn we have ended
Be it but a Play
Or a Glee among the Garret
Or a Holiday

Or a leaving Home, or later,
Parting with a World
We have understood for better
Still to be explained.

by Emily Dickinson

She sped as Petals of a Rose

 She sped as Petals of a Rose
Offended by the Wind --
A frail Aristocrat of Time
Indemnity to find --
Leaving on nature -- a Default
As Cricket or as Bee --
But Andes in the Bosoms where
She had begun to lie --

by Stephen Crane

Should the wide world roll away

 Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.

by Omar Khayyam

Since you only possess what God has given you, torment

Since you only possess what God has given you, torment
not yourself to obtain the object of your covetousness.
Keep from burdening the heart too much, for the
final drama consists in leaving all and passing beyond.

by Vachel Lindsay

The Strength of the Lonely

 (What the Mendicant Said )

The moon's a monk, unmated, 
Who walks his cell, the sky.
His strength is that of heaven-vowed men Who all life's flames defy.
They turn to stars or shadows, They go like snow or dew— Leaving behind no sorrow— Only the arching blue.

by Emily Dickinson

Its easy to invent a Life --

 It's easy to invent a Life --
God does it -- every Day --
Creation -- but the Gambol
Of His Authority --

It's easy to efface it --
The thrifty Deity
Could scarce afford Eternity
To Spontaneity --

The Perished Patterns murmur --
But His Perturbless Plan
Proceed -- inserting Here -- a Sun --
There -- leaving out a Man --

by Anna Akhmatova


 There will be thunder then.
Remember me.
Say ‘ She asked for storms.
’ The entire world will turn the colour of crimson stone, and your heart, as then, will turn to fire.
That day, in Moscow, a true prophecy, when for the last time I say goodbye, soaring to the heavens that I longed to see, leaving my shadow here in the sky.

by Emily Dickinson

Dying! To be afraid of thee

 Dying! To be afraid of thee
One must to thine Artillery
Have left exposed a Friend --
Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
Delivered straighter to the Heart
The leaving Love behind.
Not for itself, the Dust is shy, But, enemy, Beloved be Thy Batteries divorce.
Fight sternly in a Dying eye Two Armies, Love and Certainty And Love and the Reverse.

by Anna Akhmatova

You Will Hear Thunder

 You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms.
The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.
That day in Moscow, it will all come true, when, for the last time, I take my leave, And hasten to the heights that I have longed for, Leaving my shadow still to be with you.

by A S J Tessimond


 Suddenly, desperately
I thought, "No, never
In millions of minutes
Can I for one second
Calm-leaving my own self
Like clothes on a chair-back
And quietly opening
The door of one house
(No, not one of all millions)
Of blood, flesh and brain,
Climb the nerve-stair and look
From the tower, from the windows
Of eyes not my own: .
No, never, no, never!"

by Richard Brautigan

The Moon Versus Us Ever Sleeping Together Again

 I sit here, an arch-villain of romance, 
thinking about you.
Gee, I'm sorry I made you unhappy, but there was nothing I could do about it because I have to be free.
Perhaps everything would have been different if you had stayed at the table or asked me to go out with you to look at the moon, instead of getting up and leaving me alone with her.

by Jean Toomer

Evening Song

 Full moon rising on the waters of my heart,
Lakes and moon and fires,
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart.
Promises of slumber leaving shore to charm the moon, Miracle made vesper-keeps, Cloine sleeps, And I'll be sleeping soon.
Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters whtere the moonwaves start, Radiant, resplendently she gleams, Cloine dreams, Lips pressed against my heart.

by Charles Bukowski

As The Poems Go

 as the poems go into the thousands you
realize that you've created very
it comes down to the rain, the sunlight, the traffic, the nights and the days of the years, the faces.
leaving this will be easier than living it, typing one more line now as a man plays a piano through the radio, the best writers have said very little and the worst, far too much.
from ONTHEBUS - 1992

by Rabindranath Tagore

Passing Breeze

 Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love, 
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves, 
these idle clouds sailing across the sky, 
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes, and my heart has touched thy feet.

by Hermann Hesse

A Swarm Of Gnats

 Many thousand glittering motes
Crowd forward greedily together
In trembling circles.
Extravagantly carousing away For a whole hour rapidly vanishing, They rave, delirious, a shrill whir, Shivering with joy against death.
While kingdoms, sunk into ruin, Whose thrones, heavy with gold, instantly scattered Into night and legend, without leaving a trace, Have never known so fierce a dancing.

by Alexander Pushkin


 Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Let from my soul disappear The separation's sharp rebuke! And let me see that dear look, And let me hear voice that dear.
And when will vanish dark of night And you will free my eyes at leaving, Oh, if my heart would have a right To lose its love till dark of evening!

by Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi

Come, Come, Whoever You Are

Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow

a thousand times Come, yet again, come, come.


- Rumi Homepage


by Rabindranath Tagore

Lovers Gifts XLVII: The Road Is

 The road is my wedded companion.
She speaks to me under my feet all day, she sings to my dreams all night.
My meeting with her had no beginning, it begins endlessly at each daybreak, renewing its summer in fresh flowers and songs, and her every new kiss is the first kiss to me.
The road and I are lovers.
I change my dress for her night after night, leaving the tattered cumber of the old in the wayside inns when the day dawns.

by Linda Pastan

To A Daughter Leaving Home

 When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving

by Joseph Brodsky

Stone Villages

The stone-built villages of England.
A cathedral bottled in a pub window.
Cows dispersed across fields.
Monuments to kings.
A man in a moth-eaten suit sees a train off heading like everything here for the sea smiles at his daughter leaving for the East.
A whistle blows.
And the endless sky over the tiles grows bluer as swelling birdsong fills.
And the clearer the song is heard the smaller the bird.

by Hugo Williams


 Whether it was putting in an extra beat, 
or leaving one out, I couldn't tell.
My heart seemed to have forgotten everything it ever knew about timing and co-ordination in its efforts to get through to someone on the other side of a wall.
As I lay in bed, I could hear it hammering away inside my pillow, being answered now and then by a distant guitar-note of bedsprings, pausing for a moment, as if listening, Then hurrying on as before.

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Slumber Song

 Some day, if I should ever lose you,
will you be able then to go to sleep
without me softly whispering above you
like night air stirring in the linden tree?

Without my waking here and watching
and saying words as tender as eyelids
that come to rest weightlessly upon your breast,
upon your sleeping limbs, upon your lips?

Without my touching you and leaving you
alone with what is yours, like a summer garden
that is overflowing with masses
of melissa and star-anise?

by Robert Graves

The Snapped Thread

 Desire, first, by a natural miracle
United bodies, united hearts, blazed beauty;
Transcended bodies, transcended hearts.
Two souls, now unalterably one In whole love always and for ever, Soar out of twilight, through upper air, Let fall their sensous burden.
Is it kind, though, is it honest even, To consort with none but spirits- Leaving true-wedded hearts like ours In enforced night-long separation, Each to its random bodily inclination, The thread of miracle snapped?