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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 Christina Rossetti
24 Carol Ann Duffy
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 Childhood Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages

Childhood | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Robert Louis Stevenson

To Auntie

 "Chief of our aunts"--not only I, 
But all your dozen of nurselings cry-- 
"What did the other children do? 
And what were childhood, wanting you?"


by Louise Gluck

First Memory

 Long ago, I was wounded.
I lived to revenge myself against my father, not for what he was-- for what I was: from the beginning of time, in childhood, I thought that pain meant I was not loved.
It meant I loved.


by Emily Dickinson

Sweet is the swamp with its secrets

 Sweet is the swamp with its secrets,
Until we meet a snake;
'Tis then we sigh for houses,
And our departure take

At that enthralling gallop
That only childhood knows.
A snake is summer's treason, And guile is where it goes.


by Emily Dickinson

Softened by Times consummate plush

 Softened by Time's consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhood's citadel
And undermined the years.
Bisected now, by bleaker griefs, We envy the despair That devastated childhood's realm, So easy to repair.


by Emily Dickinson

Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights --

 Who is it seeks my Pillow Nights --
With plain inspecting face --
"Did you" or "Did you not," to ask --
'Tis "Conscience" -- Childhood's Nurse --

With Martial Hand she strokes the Hair
Upon my wincing Head --
"All" Rogues "shall have their part in" what --
The Phosphorous of God --


by David Ignatow

For My Daughter

 When I die choose a star
and name it after me
that you may know
I have not abandoned
or forgotten you.
You were such a star to me, following you through birth and childhood, my hand in your hand.
When I die choose a star and name it after me so that I may shine down on you, until you join me in darkness and silence together.


by Emily Dickinson

We learned the Whole of Love --

 We learned the Whole of Love --
The Alphabet -- the Words --
A Chapter -- then the mighty Book --
Then -- Revelation closed --

But in Each Other's eyes
An Ignorance beheld --
Diviner than the Childhood's --
And each to each, a Child --

Attempted to expound
What Neither -- understood --
Alas, that Wisdom is so large --
And Truth -- so manifold!


by Russell Edson

Antimatter

 On the other side of a mirror there's an inverse world, 
where the insane go sane; where bones climb out of the 
earth and recede to the first slime of love.
And in the evening the sun is just rising.
Lovers cry because they are a day younger, and soon childhood robs them of their pleasure.
In such a world there is much sadness which, of course, is joy.


by Emily Dickinson

The Things that never can come back are several --

 The Things that never can come back, are several --
Childhood -- some forms of Hope -- the Dead --
Though Joys -- like Men -- may sometimes make a Journey --
And still abide --
We do not mourn for Traveler, or Sailor,
Their Routes are fair --
But think enlarged of all that they will tell us
Returning here --
"Here!" There are typic "Heres" --
Foretold Locations --
The Spirit does not stand --
Himself -- at whatsoever Fathom
His Native Land --


by George Herbert

H. Baptism II

 Since, Lord, to thee
A narrow way and little gate
Is all the passage, on my infancy
Thou didst lay hold, and antedate
My faith in me.
O let me still Write thee great God, and me a child: Let me be soft and supple to thy will, Small to my self, to others mild, Behither ill.
Although by stealth My flesh get on, yet let her sister My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth: The growth of flesh is but a blister; Childhood is health.


by Emily Dickinson

A Wife -- at daybreak I shall be

 A Wife -- at daybreak I shall be --
Sunrise -- Hast thou a Flag for me?
At Midnight, I am but a Maid,
How short it takes to make a Bride --
Then -- Midnight, I have passed from thee
Unto the East, and Victory --

Midnight -- Good Night! I hear them call,
The Angels bustle in the Hall --
Softly my Future climbs the Stair,
I fumble at my Childhood's prayer
So soon to be a Child no more --
Eternity, I'm coming -- Sire,
Savior -- I've seen the face -- before!


by Ernest Dowson

Growth

 I watched the glory of her childhood change,
Half-sorrowful to find the child I knew,
 (Loved long ago in lily-time),
Become a maid, mysterious and strange,
With fair, pure eyes - dear eyes, but not the eyes I knew
 Of old, in the olden time!

Till on my doubting soul the ancient good
Of her dear childhood in the new disguise
 Dawned, and I hastened to adore
The glory of her waking maidenhead,
And found the old tenderness within her deepening eyes,
 But kinder than before.


by Delmore Schwartz

The Sin Of Hamlet

 The horns in the harbor booming, vaguely,
Fog, forgotten, yesterday, conclusion,
Nostalgic, noising dim sorrow, calling
To sleep is it? I think so, and childhood,
Not the door opened and the stair descended,
The voice answered, the choice announced, the
Trigger touched in the sharp declaration!

And when it comes, escape is small; the door
Creaks; the worms of fear spread veins; the furtive
Fugitive, looking backward, sees his
Ghost in the mirror, his shameful eyes, his mouth diseased.