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Famous Short Daughter Poems. Short Daughter Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Daughter Poems. Short Daughter Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Daughter 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

Great Caesar! Condescend

 Great Caesar! Condescend
The Daisy, to receive,
Gathered by Cato's Daughter,
With your majestic leave!


by Mother Goose

A Difficult Rhyme


What is the rhyme for porringer?
The king he had a daughter fair,
And gave the Prince of Orange her.


by Kobayashi Issa

Windy fall

 At my daughter's grave, thirty days
after her death:

 Windy fall--
 these are the scarlet flowers
 she liked to pick.


by Edward Lear

U was a silver urn

U

was a silver urn,
Full of hot scalding water; Papa said, "If that Urn were mine,
I'd give it to my daughter!"


by Edward Lear

There was an old man of Messina

There was an old man of Messina,
Whose daughter was named Opsibeena;
She wore a small wig, and rode out on a pig,
To the perfect delight of Messina.


by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man of Bohemia

There was an Old Man of Bohemia,
Whose daughter was christened Euphemia;
But one day, to his grief, she married a thief,
Which grieved that Old Man of Bohemia.


by Edward Lear

There was an Old Person of Cadiz

There was an Old Person of Cadiz,
Who was always polite to all ladies;
But in handing his daughter, he fell into the water,
Which drowned that Old Person of Cadiz.


by Edward Lear

There was a young person in pink

There was a young person in pink,
Who called out for something to drink;
But they said, "O my daughter, there's nothing but water!"
Which vexed that young person in pink.


by Robert Graves

Love Without Hope

 Love without hope, as when the young bird-catcher
Swept off his tall hat to the Squire's own daughter,
So let the imprisoned larks escape and fly
Singing about her head, as she rode by.


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 Mother Goose

Little Polly Flinders


Little Polly Flinders
Sat among the cinders
    Warming her pretty little toes;
Her mother came and caught her,
Whipped her little daughter
    For spoiling her nice new clothes.


by Emily Dickinson

The parasol is the umbrellas daughter

 The parasol is the umbrella's daughter,
And associates with a fan
While her father abuts the tempest
And abridges the rain.
The former assists a siren In her serene display; But her father is borne and honored, And borrowed to this day.


by Bliss Carman

A Sea Child

 The lover of child Marjory 
Had one white hour of life brim full; 
Now the old nurse, the rocking sea, 
Hath him to lull.
The daughter of child Marjory Hath in her veins, to beat and run, The glad indomitable sea, The strong white sun.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

Youth And Beauty

 I bought a dishmop— 
having no daughter— 
for they had twisted 
fine ribbons of shining copper 
about white twine 
and made a tousled head
of it, fastened it 
upon a turned ash stick
slender at the neck 
straight, tall— 
when tied upright 
on the brass wallbracket
to be a light for me 
and naked 
as a girl should seem 
to her father.


by Edgar Lee Masters

A.D. Blood

 If you in the village think that my work was a good one,
Who closed the saloons and stopped all playing at cards,
And haled old Daisy Fraser before Justice Arnett,
In many a crusade to purge the people of sin;
Why do you let the milliner's daughter Dora,
And the worthless son of Benjamin Pantier,
Nightly make my grave their unholy pillow?


by Mother Goose

Whistle

 

"Whistle, daughter, whistle;
    Whistle, daughter dear.
"
"I cannot whistle, mammy,
    I cannot whistle clear.
"
"Whistle, daughter, whistle;
    Whistle for a pound.
"
"I cannot whistle, mammy,
    I cannot make a sound.
"


by Thomas Lux

A Little Tooth

 Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone.
It's all over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet talker on his way to jail.
And you, your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue nothing.
You did, you loved, your feet are sore.
It's dusk.
Your daughter's tall.


by Eugene Field

Heines Widow or Daughter?

 Shall I woo the one or other?
Both attract me--more's the pity!
Pretty is the widowed mother,
And the daughter, too, is pretty.
When I see that maiden shrinking, By the gods I swear I'll get 'er! But anon I fall to thinking That the mother 'll suit me better! So, like any idiot ass Hungry for the fragrant fodder, Placed between two bales of grass, Lo, I doubt, delay, and dodder!


by Erica Jong

Flying at Forty

 You call me
courageous, 
I who grew up
gnawing on books,
as some kids
gnaw
on bubble gum,

who married disastrously
not once
but three times,
yet have a lovely daughter
I would not undo
for all the dope
in California.
Fear was my element, fear my contagion.
I swam in it till I became immune.
The plane takes off & I laugh aloud.
Call me courageous.
I am still alive.


by Mother Goose

A Melancholy Song


Trip upon trenchers,
And dance upon dishes,
My mother sent me for some barm, some barm;
She bid me go lightly,
And come again quickly,
For fear the young men should do me some harm.
Yet didn't you see, yet didn't you see,
What naughty tricks they put upon me?
They broke my pitcher
And spilt the water,
And huffed my mother,
And chid her daughter,
And kissed my sister instead of me.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

PROVERBS.

 'TIS easier far a wreath to bind,
Than a good owner fort to find.
I KILL'D a thousand flies overnight, Yet was waken'd by one, as soon as twas light.
To the mother I give; For the daughter I live.
A BREACH is every day, By many a mortal storm'd; Let them fall in the gaps as they may, Yet a heap of dead is ne'er form'd.
WHAT harm has thy poor mirror done, alas? Look not so ugly, prythee, in the glass! 1815.
*


by Lisa Zaran

Tenderness

 All around me, the sky with its deep shade of dark.
The stars.
The moon with its shrunken soul.
Can I become what I want to become? Neither wife or mother.
I am noone and nobody is my lover.
I am afraid that when I go mad, my father will bow his downy head into his silver wings and weep.
My daughter, O my daughter.
Originally Published in The 2River View, 10.
1, 2005 Copyright © Lisa Zaran, 2005


by Linda Pastan

To A Daughter Leaving Home

 When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.


by Joseph Brodsky

Stone Villages

The stone-built villages of England.
A cathedral bottled in a pub window.
Cows dispersed across fields.
Monuments to kings.
A man in a moth-eaten suit sees a train off heading like everything here for the sea smiles at his daughter leaving for the East.
A whistle blows.
And the endless sky over the tiles grows bluer as swelling birdsong fills.
And the clearer the song is heard the smaller the bird.


by Robert Burns

529. Song—How cruel are the parents

 HOW cruel are the parents
 Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
 Poor Woman sacrifice!
Meanwhile, the hapless Daughter
 Has but a choice of strife;
To shun a tyrant Father’s hate—
 Become a wretched Wife.
The ravening hawk pursuing, The trembling dove thus flies, To shun impelling ruin, Awhile her pinions tries; Till, of escape despairing, No shelter or retreat, She trusts the ruthless Falconer, And drops beneath his feet.


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