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
A Sloop of Amber slips away
Upon an Ether Sea,
And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar,
The Son of Ecstasy --
[Pg 232] TO LAURA IN DEATH.
[Pg 322] PETRARCH'S TRIUMPHS.
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.
A robin and a robin's sonOnce went to town to buy a bun.They couldn't decide on plum or plain,And so they went back home again.
Diddle diddle dumpling, my son JohnWent to bed with his breeches on,One stocking off, and one stocking on;Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John.
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,
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.
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.
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 --
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.
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 --
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 --
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.
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!
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.
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!
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
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!
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.
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.
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.
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!
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
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 --