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Famous Short Brother Poems. Short Brother Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Brother Poems. Short Brother Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Brother 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 Stephen Crane

I stood upon a high place

 I stood upon a high place,
And saw, below, many devils
Running, leaping,
and carousing in sin.
One looked up, grinning, And said, "Comrade! Brother!"


by Mother Goose

Bye, Baby Bunting


Bye, baby bunting,
Father's gone a-hunting,
Mother's gone a-milking,
Sister's gone a-silking,
And brother's gone to buy a skin
To wrap the baby bunting in.


by Hilaire Belloc

The Early Morning

 The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other:
The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother.
The moon on my left and the dawn on my right.
My brother, good morning: my sister, good night.


by Mother Goose

I'Ll Tell You A Story


  I'll tell you a story
  About Jack-a-Nory:
And now my story's begun.
  I'll tell you another
  About his brother:
And now my story is done.



by Emily Dickinson

Brother of Ingots -- Ah Peru --

 Brother of Ingots -- Ah Peru --
Empty the Hearts that purchased you --

--

Sister of Ophir --
Ah, Peru --
Subtle the Sum
That purchase you --

--

Brother of Ophir
Bright Adieu,
Honor, the shortest route
To you.


by Robert Louis Stevenson

In The States

 With half a heart I wander here
As from an age gone by
A brother yet— though young in years,
An elder brother, I.
You speak another tongue than mine, Though both were English born.
I towards the night of time decline, You mount into the morn.


by Walt Whitman

To You.

 LET us twain walk aside from the rest; 
Now we are together privately, do you discard ceremony, 
Come! vouchsafe to me what has yet been vouchsafed to none—Tell me the whole story, 
Tell me what you would not tell your brother, wife, husband, or physician.


by Barry Tebb

SMILE YOU ARE ON CCTV

 Even the charity shops boast of the surveillance

Mr Average is caught on camera a hundred times a day

To provide unending footage for reality TV

But in a decade where will we all be?

Big Brother’s eye will see our every step,

The blink of every eye, the tears we cry.


by Katharine Tynan

Lambs

 He sleeps as a lamb sleeps, 
Beside his mother.
Somewhere in yon blue deeps His tender brother Sleeps like a lamb and leaps.
He feeds as a lamb might, Beside his mother.
Somewhere in fields of light A lamb, his brother, Feeds, and is clothed in white.


by Mother Goose

Robin And Richard

 
Robin and Richard were two pretty men,
They lay in bed till the clock struck ten;
Then up starts Robin and looks at the sky,
"Oh, brother Richard, the sun's very high!
You go before, with the bottle and bag,
And I will come after on little Jack Nag.
"


by Robert Burns

154. Lines Inscribed under Fergusson’s Portrait

 CURSE on ungrateful man, that can be pleased,
And yet can starve the author of the pleasure.
O thou, my elder brother in misfortune, By far my elder brother in the Muses, With tears I pity thy unhappy fate! Why is the Bard unpitied by the world, Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures?


by Carl Sandburg

Kin

 BROTHER, I am fire
Surging under the ocean floor.
I shall never meet you, brother-- Not for years, anyhow; Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Then I will warm you, Hold you close, wrap you in circles, Use you and change you-- Maybe thousands of years, brother.
Where the moon slants and wavers.


by Alice Walker

The Old Men Used to Sing

The old men used to sing
And lifted a brother
Carefully
Out the door
I used to think they
Were born
Knowing how to
Gently swing
A casket
They shuffled softly
Eyes dry
More awkward
With the flowers
Than with the widow
After they'd put the
Body in
And stood around waiting
In their
Brown suits.


by Leonard Cohen

Suzanne

 Brother Paul! look!
—but he rushes to a different
window.
The moon! I heard shrieks and thought: What's that? That's just Suzanne talking to the moon! Pounding on the window with both fists: Paul! Paul! —and talking to the moon.
Shrieking and pounding the glass with both fists! Brother Paul! the moon!


by Vachel Lindsay

St. Francis of Assisi

 Would I might wake St.
Francis in you all, Brother of birds and trees, God's Troubadour, Blinded with weeping for the sad and poor; Our wealth undone, all strict Franciscan men, Come, let us chant the canticle again Of mother earth and the enduring sun.
God make each soul the lonely leper's slave; God make us saints, and brave.


by Langston Hughes

I Too Sing America

 I, too, sing America.
I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong.
Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes.
Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then.
Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed-- I, too, am America.


by Emily Dickinson

There is another sky

 There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!


by Denise Levertov

On the Mystery of the Incarnation

 It's when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.


by Siegfried Sassoon

To My Brother

 Give me your hand, my brother, search my face; 
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame; 
For we have made an end of all things base.
We are returning by the road we came.
Your lot is with the ghosts of soldiers dead, And I am in the field where men must fight.
But in the gloom I see your laurell’d head And through your victory I shall win the light.


by Nazim Hikmet

About My Poetry

 I have no silver-saddled horse to ride,
no inheritance to live on,
neither riches no real-estate --
a pot of honey is all I own.
A pot of honey red as fire! My honey is my everything.
I guard my riches and my real-estate -- my honey pot, I mean -- from pests of every species, Brother, just wait.
.
.
As long as I've got honey in my pot, bees will come to it from Timbuktu.
.
.


by Walt Whitman

Among the Multitude.

 AMONG the men and women, the multitude, 
I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs, 
Acknowledging none else—not parent, wife, husband, brother, child, any nearer than I
 am; 
Some are baffled—But that one is not—that one knows me.
Ah, lover and perfect equal! I meant that you should discover me so, by my faint indirections; And I, when I meet you, mean to discover you by the like in you.


by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Mourning

 Alas my brother! the cry of the mourners of old
That cried on each other,
All crying aloud on the dead as the death-note rolled,
Alas my brother!

As flashes of dawn that mists from an east wind smother
With fold upon fold,
The past years gleam that linked us one with another.
Time sunders hearts as of brethren whose eyes behold No more their mother: But a cry sounds yet from the shrine whose fires wax cold, Alas my brother!


by John Gould Fletcher

Care-charming Sleep

 Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud
Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet,
And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain,
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain;
Into this prince gently, oh gently slide,
And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.


by Emily Dickinson

There is a word

 There is a word
Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man --
It hurls its barbed syllables
And is mute again --
But where it fell
The saved will tell
On patriotic day,
Some epauletted Brother
Gave his breath away.
Wherever runs the breathless sun -- Wherever roams the day -- There is its noiseless onset -- There is its victory! Behold the keenest marksman! The most accomplished shot! Time's sublimest target Is a soul "forgot!"


by Algernon Charles Swinburne

To Catullus

 My brother, my Valerius, dearest head
Of all whose crowning bay-leaves crown their mother
Rome, in the notes first heard of thine I read
My brother.
No dust that death or time can strew may smother Love and the sense of kinship inly bred From loves and hates at one with one another.
To thee was Caesar's self nor dear nor dread, Song and the sea were sweeter each than other: How should I living fear to call thee dead My brother?


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