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Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

 Poet
1 William Wordsworth
2 Emily Dickinson
3 William Shakespeare
4 Maya Angelou
5 Langston Hughes
6 Robert Frost
7 Walt Whitman
8 Rabindranath Tagore
9 Shel Silverstein
10 William Blake
11 Pablo Neruda
12 Sylvia Plath
13 Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
14 William Butler Yeats
15 Tupac Shakur
16 Oscar Wilde
17 Rudyard Kipling
18 Sandra Cisneros
19 Alfred Lord Tennyson
20 Alice Walker
21 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
22 Billy Collins
23 Carol Ann Duffy
24 Christina Rossetti
25 Charles Bukowski
26 Edgar Allan Poe
27 Sarojini Naidu
28 John Donne
29 Ralph Waldo Emerson
30 Nikki Giovanni
31 John Keats
32 Raymond Carver
33 Mark Twain
34 Thomas Hardy
35 Anne Sexton
36 Lewis Carroll
37 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
38 Gary Soto
39 Carl Sandburg
40 Alexander Pushkin
41 Gwendolyn Brooks
42 Henry David Thoreau
43 George (Lord) Byron
44 Spike Milligan
45 Margaret Atwood
46 Muhammad Ali
47 Roger McGough
48 Sara Teasdale
49 Jane Austen
50 Allen Ginsberg
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Famous Short River Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages

River | Short Famous Poems and Poets

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by Yosa Buson

Early summer rain

 Early summer rain--
houses facing the river,
 two of them


by Paul Eluard

The River

 The river I have under my tongue,
Unimaginable water, my little boat,
And curtains lowered, let's speak.


by Ogura Hyakunin Isshu

Yozei In

From Tsukuba's peak,
Falling waters have become
Mina's still, full flow:
So my love has grown to be;
Like the river's quiet deeps.


by Edward Lear

V was a villa

V

was a villa
Which stood on a hill,
By the side of a river,
And close to a mill.

v

Nice little villa!


by Wang Wei

Lament For Meng Hao-Jan

 I can never see my old friend again—
The river Han still streams to the east
I might question some old man of his place—
River and hills—empty is Tsaichou.


by Edward Lear

F was a little Fish

F

was a little Fish.
Cook in the river took it Papa said, "Cook! Cook! bring a dish!
And, Cook! be quick and cook it!"


by Emily Dickinson

My River runs to thee

 My River runs to thee --
Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me?
My River wait reply --
Oh Sea -- look graciously --
I'll fetch thee Brooks
From spotted nooks --
Say -- Sea -- Take Me!


by Li Po

Waterfall at Lu-shan

 Sunlight streams on the river stones.
From high above, the river steadily plunges-- three thousand feet of sparkling water-- the Milky Way pouring down from heaven.


by Walter Savage Landor

Ianthe

 From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass
Like little ripples down a sunny river;
Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,
Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.


by Omar Khayyam

Take up thy cup and goblet, Love, I said,

«Take up thy cup and goblet, Love,» I said,
«Haunt purling river bank, and grassy glade;
Full many a moon-like form has heaven's weel
Oft into cup, oft into goblet, made!»


by Omar Khayyam

Last night upon the river bank we lay,

Last night upon the river bank we lay,
I with my wine-cup, and a maiden gay,
So bright it shone, like pearl within its shell,
The watchman cried, «Behold the break of day!»


by Henry Van Dyke

Pan Learns Music

 Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock,
Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock? 
What are you making here? "Listen," said Pan, --
"Out of a river-reed music for man!"


by Li Po

Autumn River Song

 The moon shimmers in green water.
White herons fly through the moonlight.
The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts: into the night, singing, they paddle home together.


by Mother Goose

A Cock And Bull Story


The cock's on the housetop blowing his horn;
The bull's in the barn a-threshing of corn;
The maids in the meadows are making of hay;
The ducks in the river are swimming away.



by Carl Sandburg

His Own Face Hidden

 HOKUSAI’S portrait of himself
Tells what his hat was like
And his arms and legs.
The only faces Are a river and a mountain And two laughing farmers.
The smile of Hokusai is under his hat.


by Walter de la Mare

Why?

 Ever, ever
Stir and shiver
The reeds and rushes
By the river:
Ever, ever,
As if in dream,
The lone moon's silver
Sleeks the stream.
What old sorrow, What lost love, Moon, reeds, rushes, Dream you of?


by Emily Dickinson

How far is it to Heaven?

 How far is it to Heaven?
As far as Death this way --
Of River or of Ridge beyond
Was no discovery.
How far is it to Hell? As far as Death this way -- How far left hand the Sepulchre Defies Topography.


by John McCrae

The Dead Master

 Amid earth's vagrant noises, he caught the note sublime:
To-day around him surges from the silences of Time
A flood of nobler music, like a river deep and broad,
Fit song for heroes gathered in the banquet-hall of God.


by Li Po

Farewell to Meng Hao-jan

 I took leave of you, old friend, at the 
Yellow Crane Pavilion; 
In the mist and bloom of March, you went 
down to Yang-chou: 
A lonely sail, distant shades, extinguished by blue-- 
There, at the horizon, where river meets sky.


by Wang Wei

Farewell to Hsin Chien at Hibiscus Pavilion

 A cold rain mingled with the river
at evening, when I entered Wu;
In the clear dawn I bid you farewell,
lonely as Ch'u Mountain.
My kinsfolk in Loyang, should they ask about me, Tell them: "My heart is a piece of ice in a jade cup!"


by Walt Whitman

Others may Praise what They Like

 OTHERS may praise what they like; 
But I, from the banks of the running Missouri, praise nothing, in art, or aught else, 
Till it has well inhaled the atmosphere of this river—also the western prairie-scent,

And fully exudes it again.


by Li Po

Listening to a Flute in Yellow Crane Pavillion

 I came here a wanderer
thinking of home,
remembering my far away Ch'ang-an.
And then, from deep in Yellow Crane Pavillion, I heard a beautiful bamboo flute play "Falling Plum Blossoms.
" It was late spring in a city by the river.


by Carl Sandburg

They Ask Each Other Where They Came From

 AM I the river your white birds fly over?
Are you the green valley my silver channels roam?
The two of us a bowl of blue sky day time and a bowl of red stars night time?
 Who picked you
 out of the first great whirl of nothings
 and threw you here?


by Derek Walcott

Midsummer Tobago

 Broad sun-stoned beaches.
White heat.
A green river.
A bridge, scorched yellow palms from the summer-sleeping house drowsing through August.
Days I have held, days I have lost, days that outgrow, like daughters, my harbouring arms.


by W S Merwin

Animula

Look soul
soul
barefoot presence
through whom blood falls as though
a water clock
and tears rise before they wake
I will take you

at last to
where the wind stops
by the river we
know
by that same water
and the nights are not separate
remember


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