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Famous Short Son Poems. Short Son Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Son Poems. Short Son Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Son 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 Emily Dickinson

A Sloop of Amber slips away

 A Sloop of Amber slips away
Upon an Ether Sea,
And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar,
The Son of Ecstasy --


by Francesco Petrarch

TO LAURA IN DEATH.

[Pg 232]

TO LAURA IN DEATH.


by Francesco Petrarch

PETRARCH'S TRIUMPHS.

[Pg 322]

PETRARCH'S TRIUMPHS.


by Dorothy Parker

Alfred Lord Tennyson

 Should Heaven send me any son,
I hope he's not like Tennyson.
I'd rather have him play a fiddle
Than rise and bow and speak an idyll.


by Mother Goose

The Robins


A robin and a robin's son
Once went to town to buy a bun.
They couldn't decide on plum or plain,
And so they went back home again.


by Mother Goose

Diddle Diddle Dumpling

 

Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his breeches on,
One stocking off, and one stocking on;
Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John.


by Robert William Service

Rhyme For My Tomb

 Here lyeth one
Who loved the sun;
Who lived with zest,
Whose work was done,
Reward, dear Lord,
Thy weary son:
May he be blest
With peace and rest,
Nor wake again,
 Amen.


by Mother Goose

Tom, Tom, The Piper's Son


Tom, Tom, the piper's son,
Stole a pig, and away he run,
  The pig was eat,
  And Tom was beat,
And Tom ran crying down the street.


by Walter Savage Landor

On Catullus

 Tell me not what too well I know
About the bard of Sirmio.
Yes, in Thalia’s son
Such stains there are—as when a Grace
Sprinkles another’s laughing face
With nectar, and runs on.


by Emily Dickinson

Only God -- detect the Sorrow --

 Only God -- detect the Sorrow --
Only God --
The Jehovahs -- are no Babblers --
Unto God --
God the Son -- Confide it --
Still secure --
God the Spirit's Honor --
Just as sure --


by Hilaire Belloc

On the Little God

 Of all the gods that gave me all their glories 
To-day there deigns to walk with me but one. 
I lead him by the hand and tell him stories. 
It is the Queen of Cyprus' little son.


by Emily Dickinson

The Spider as an Artist

 The Spider as an Artist
Has never been employed --
Though his surpassing Merit
Is freely certified

By every Broom and Bridget
Throughout a Christian Land --
Neglected Son of Genius
I take thee by the Hand --


by Emily Dickinson

Given in Marriage unto Thee

 Given in Marriage unto Thee
Oh thou Celestial Host --
Bride of the Father and the Son
Bride of the Holy Ghost.

Other Betrothal shall dissolve --
Wedlock of Will, decay --
Only the Keeper of this Ring
Conquer Mortality --


by Emily Dickinson

Forever honored by the Tree

 Forever honored by the Tree
Whose Apple Winterworn
Enticed to Breakfast from the Sky
Two Gabriels Yestermorn.

They registered in Nature's Book
As Robins -- Sire and Son --
But Angels have that modest way
To screen them from Renown.


by Robert Burns

420. Lines of John M’Murdo Esq.

 BLEST be M’Murdo to his latest day!
No envious cloud o’ercast his evening ray;
No wrinkle, furrow’d by the hand of care,
Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair!
O may no son the father’s honour stain,
Nor ever daughter give the mother pain!


by Emily Dickinson

How brittle are the Piers

 How brittle are the Piers
On which our Faith doth tread --
No Bridge below doth totter so --
Yet none hath such a Crowd.

It is as old as God --
Indeed -- 'twas built by him --
He sent his Son to test the Plank,
And he pronounced it firm.


by Emily Dickinson

Upon the gallows hung a wretch

 Upon the gallows hung a wretch,
Too sullied for the hell
To which the law entitled him.
As nature's curtain fell
The one who bore him tottered in , --
For this was woman's son.
"'Twere all I had," she stricken gasped --
Oh, what a livid boon!


by Katherine Mansfield

Firelight

 Playing in the fire and twilight together,
My little son and I,
Suddenly--woefully--I stoop to catch him.
"Try, mother, try!"

Old Nurse Silence lifts a silent finger:
"Hush! cease your play!"
What happened? What in that tiny moment
Flew away?


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THE INSTRUCTORS.

 WHEN Diogenes quietly sunn'd himself in his barrel,

When Calanus with joy leapt in the flame-breathing grave,
Oh, what noble lessons were those for the rash son of Philip,

Were not the lord of the world e'en for instruction too great!

 1789.*


by Elinor Wylie

Curious Circumstance

 The sailorman's child 
And the girl of the witch-- 
They can't be defiled 
By touching pitch.

The sailorman's son 
Had a ship for a nursery; 
The other one 
Was baptised by sorcery.

Although he's shipped 
To the Persian Gulf, her 
Body's been dipped 
In burning sulphur.


by Richard Aldington

Epilogue

 Che son contenti nel fuoco

We are of those that Dante saw
Glad, for love's sake, among the flames of hell,
Outdaring with a kiss all-powerful wrath;
For we have passed athwart a fiercer hell,
Through gloomier, more desperate circles
Than ever Dante dreamed:
And yet love kept us glad.


by Robert Herrick

A HYMN TO VENUS AND CUPID

 Sea-born goddess, let me be
By thy son thus graced, and thee,
That whene'er I woo, I find
Virgins coy, but not unkind.
Let me, when I kiss a maid,
Taste her lips, so overlaid
With love's sirop, that I may
In your temple, when I pray,
Kiss the altar, and confess
There's in love no bitterness.


by James Joyce

Ecce Puer

 Of the dark past
A child is born;
With joy and grief
My heart is torn.

Calm in his cradle
The living lies.
May love and mercy
Unclose his eyes!

Young life is breathed
On the glass;
The world that was not
Comes to pass.

A child is sleeping:
An old man gone.
O, father forsaken,
Forgive your son!


by William Blake

To The Accuser Who is The God of This World

 Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce
And dost not know the Garment from the Man
Every Harlot was a Virgin once
Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan

Tho thou art Worship'd by the Names Divine 
Of Jesus & Jehovah thou art still
The Son of Morn in weary Nights decline
The lost Travellers Dream under the Hill


by Emily Dickinson

God is a distant -- stately Lover

 God is a distant -- stately Lover --
Woos, as He states us -- by His Son --
Verily, a Vicarious Courtship --
"Miles", and "Priscilla", were such an One --

But, lest the Soul -- like fair "Priscilla"
Choose the Envoy -- and spurn the Groom --
Vouches, with hyperbolic archness --
"Miles", and "John Alden" were Synonym --


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