Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places




Famous Short For Him Poems. Short For Him Poetry by Famous Poets

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

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

12
 
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Away With Funeral Music

 AWAY with funeral music - set
The pipe to powerful lips -
The cup of life's for him that drinks
And not for him that sips.


by Robert Browning

Parting At Morning

 Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,
And the sun looked over the mountain's rim:
And straight was a path of gold for him,
And the need of a world of men for me.


by Emily Dickinson

Each Scar Ill keep for Him

 Each Scar I'll keep for Him
Instead I'll say of Gem
In His long Absence worn
A Costlier one

But every Tear I bore
Were He to count them o'er
His own would fall so more
I'll mis sum them.


by Walt Whitman

For Him I Sing.

 FOR him I sing, 
(As some perennial tree, out of its roots, the present on the past:) 
With time and space I him dilate—and fuse the immortal laws, 
To make himself, by them, the law unto himself.


by Ben Jonson

On Banks the Usurer


XXXI.
 ? ON BANKS THE USURER.
  
BANKS feel no lameness in his knotty gout,
His monies travel for him in and out.
And though the soundest legs go every day,
He toils to be at hell, as soon as they.


by Emily Dickinson

I groped for him before I knew

 I groped for him before I knew
With solemn nameless need
All other bounty sudden chaff
For this foreshadowed Food
Which others taste and spurn and sneer --
Though I within suppose
That consecrated it could be
The only Food that grows


by Emily Dickinson

He is alive this morning --

 He is alive, this morning --
He is alive -- and awake --
Birds are resuming for Him --
Blossoms -- dress for His Sake.
Bees -- to their Loaves of Honey Add an Amber Crumb Him -- to regale -- Me -- Only -- Motion, and am dumb.


by Emily Dickinson

God permit industrious angels

God permit industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, -- forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway.
God calls home the angels promptly At the setting sun; I missed mine.
How dreary marbles, After playing the Crown!


by Emily Dickinson

God permits industrious Angels

 God permits industrious Angels --
Afternoons -- to play --
I met one -- forgot my Schoolmates --
All -- for Him -- straightway --
God calls home -- the Angels -- promptly --
At the Setting Sun --
I missed mine -- how dreary -- Marbles --
After playing Crown!


by Stevie Smith

My Heart Goes Out

 My heart goes out to my Creator in love
Who gave me Death, as end and remedy.
All living creatures come to quiet Death For him to eat up their activity And give them nothing, which is what they want although When they are living they do not think so.


by Jack Gilbert

In Dispraise Of Poetry

 When the King of Siam disliked a courtier, 
he gave him a beautiful white elephant.
The miracle beast deserved such ritual that to care for him properly meant ruin.
Yet to care for him improperly was worse.
It appears the gift could not be refused.


by Emily Dickinson

The Guest is gold and crimson

 The Guest is gold and crimson --
An Opal guest and gray --
Of Ermine is his doublet --
His Capuchin gay --

He reaches town at nightfall --
He stops at every door --
Who looks for him at morning
I pray him too -- explore
The Lark's pure territory --
Or the Lapwing's shore!


by Emily Dickinson

A Bee his burnished Carriage

 A Bee his burnished Carriage
Drove boldly to a Rose --
Combinedly alighting --
Himself -- his Carriage was --
The Rose received his visit
With frank tranquillity
Withholding not a Crescent
To his Cupidity --
Their Moment consummated --
Remained for him -- to flee --
Remained for her -- of rapture
But the humility.


by Vasko Popa

Hide-And-Seek

 Someone hides from someone else 
Hides under his tongue 
The other looks for him under the earth 

He hides on his forehead 
The other looks for him in the sky 

He hides inside his forgetfulness 
The other looks for him in the grass 

Looks for him looks 
There's no place he doesn't look 
And looking he loses himself


by Denise Levertov

Living

 The fire in leaf and grass
so green it seems
each summer the last summer.
The wind blowing, the leaves shivering in the sun, each day the last day.
A red salamander so cold and so easy to catch, dreamily moves his delicate feet and long tail.
I hold my hand open for him to go.
Each minute the last minute.


by Emily Dickinson

Kill your Balm -- and its Odors bless you

 Kill your Balm -- and its Odors bless you --
Bare your Jessamine -- to the storm --
And she will fling her maddest perfume --
Haply -- your Summer night to Charm --

Stab the Bird -- that built in your bosom --
Oh, could you catch her last Refrain --
Bubble! "forgive" -- "Some better" -- Bubble!
"Carol for Him -- when I am gone"!


by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

Blue and White

 BLUE is Our Lady’s colour, 
White is Our Lord’s.
To-morrow I will wear a knot Of blue and white cords, That you may see it, where you ride Among the flashing swords.
O banner, white and sunny blue, With prayer I wove thee! For love the white, for faith the heavenly hue, And both for him, so tender-true, Him that doth love me!


by Stephen Crane

Behold the grave of a wicked man

 Behold, the grave of a wicked man,
And near it, a stern spirit.
There came a drooping maid with violets, But the spirit grasped her arm.
"No flowers for him," he said.
The maid wept: "Ah, I loved him.
" But the spirit, grim and frowning: "No flowers for him.
" Now, this is it -- If the spirit was just, Why did the maid weep?


by Emily Dickinson

That odd old man is dead a year --

 That odd old man is dead a year --
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff His faded lamp went out.
Who miss his antiquated Wick -- Are any hoar for him? Waits any indurated mate His wrinkled coming Home? Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood And consummated dull! Achievement contemplating thee -- Feels transitive and cool.


by Robert Burns

123. Lines to an Old Sweetheart

 ONCE fondly lov’d, and still remember’d dear,
 Sweet early object of my youthful vows,
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
 Friendship! ’tis all cold duty now allows.
And when you read the simple artless rhymes, One friendly sigh for him—he asks no more, Who, distant, burns in flaming torrid climes, Or haply lies beneath th’ Atlantic roar.


by Robert William Service

The Yukoner

 He burned a hole in frozen muck,
He pierced the icy mould,
And there in six-foot dirt he struck
A sack or so of gold.
He burned holes in the Decalogue, And then it cam about, For Fortune's just a lousy rogue, His "pocket" petered out.
And lo! 'twas but a year all told, When there in a shadow grim, In six feet deep of icy mould They burned a hole for him.


by William Carlos (WCW) Williams

The Defective Record

 Cut the bank for the fill.
Dump sand pumped out of the river into the old swale killing whatever was there before—including even the muskrats.
Who did it? There's the guy.
Him in the blue shirt and turquoise skullcap.
Level it down for him to build a house on to build a house on to build a house on to build a house on to build a house on to .
.
.


by George William Russell

The Pain of Earth

 DOES the earth grow grey with grief
For her hero darling fled?
Though her vales let fall no leaf,
In our hearts her tears are shed.
Still the stars laugh on above: Not to them her grief is said; Mourning for her hero love In our hearts the tears are shed.
We her children mourn for him, Mourn the elder hero dead; In the twilight grey and dim In our hearts the tears are shed.


by Stevie Smith

Not Waving But Drowning

 Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.
Poor chap, he always loved larking And now he's dead It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way, They said.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always (Still the dead one lay moaning) I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.


by Siegfried Sassoon

At Daybreak

 I listen for him through the rain, 
And in the dusk of starless hours 
I know that he will come again; 
Loth was he ever to forsake me: 
He comes with glimmering of flowers
And stir of music to awake me.
Spirit of purity, he stands As once he lived in charm and grace: I may not hold him with my hands, Nor bid him stay to heal my sorrow; Only his fair, unshadowed face Abides with me until to-morrow.


12