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Famous Short House Poems

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

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House | Short Famous Poems and Poets

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by Kobayashi Issa

Dont worry spiders

 Don't worry, spiders,
I keep house
casually.


by Kobayashi Issa

Under my house

 Under my house
an inchworm
measuring the joists.


by Yosa Buson

Harvest moon

 Harvest moon--
called at his house,
he was digging potatoes.


by Matsuo Basho

This old village

 This old village--
not a single house
 without persimmon trees.


by Mother Goose

A Star


Higher than a house, higher than a tree.
Oh! whatever can that be?


by Emily Dickinson

As willing lid oer weary eye

 As willing lid o'er weary eye
The Evening on the Day leans
Till of all our nature's House
Remains but Balcony


by Emily Dickinson

Of Glory not a Beam is left

 Of Glory not a Beam is left
But her Eternal House --
The Asterisk is for the Dead,
The Living, for the Stars --


by Mother Goose

Tommy Tittlemouse

 

Little Tommy Tittlemouse
Lived in a little house;
He caught fishes
In other men's ditches.


by Gelett Burgess

My Feet

 My Feet they haul me Round the House,
They Hoist me up the Stairs;
I only have to Steer them, and
They Ride me Everywheres!


by Emily Dickinson

Who has not found the Heaven -- below --

 Who has not found the Heaven -- below --
Will fail of it above --
For Angels rent the House next ours,
Wherever we remove --


by Emily Dickinson

I sued the News -- yet feared -- the News

 I sued the News -- yet feared -- the News
That such a Realm could be --
"The House not made with Hands" it was --
Thrown open wide to me --


by Emily Dickinson

If Blame be my side -- forfeit Me --

 If Blame be my side -- forfeit Me --
But doom me not to forfeit Thee --
To forfeit Thee? The very name
Is sentence from Belief -- and House --


by Edward Lear

A was an ant

A

was an ant
Who seldom stood still,
And who made a nice house
In the side of a hill.

a

Nice little ant!


by Carl Sandburg

Pool

 OUT of the fire
Came a man sunken
To less than cinders,
A tea-cup of ashes or so.
And I, The gold in the house, Writhed into a stiff pool.


by Philip Larkin

New Eyes Each Year

 New eyes each year
Find old books here,
And new books,too,
Old eyes renew;
So youth and age
Like ink and page
In this house join,
Minting new coin.


by Edward Lear

C was Papas gray Cat

C

was Papa's gray Cat,
Who caught a squeaky Mouse; She pulled him by his twirly tail
All about the house.


by Jack Gilbert

Divorce

 Woke up suddenly thinking I heard crying.
Rushed through the dark house.
Stopped, remembering.
Stood looking out at bright moonlight on concrete.


by Bertolt Brecht

Send Me A Leaf

 Send me a leaf, but from a bush
That grows at least one half hour
Away from your house, then
You must go and will be strong, and I
Thank you for the pretty leaf.


by Mother Goose

Ladybird


Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home!
Your house is on fire, your children all gone,
All but one, and her name is Ann,
And she crept under the pudding pan.


by Edward Lear

There was an Old Man of the Cape

There was an Old Man of the Cape,
Who possessed a large Barbary Ape;
Till the Ape, one dark night, set the house all alight,
Which burned that Old Man of the Cape.


by Omar Khayyam

Take heart! Long in the weary tomb you'll lie,

Take heart! Long in the weary tomb you'll lie,
While stars keep countless watches in the sky,
And see your ashes moulded into bricks,
To build another's house and turrets high.


by Omar Khayyam

To the wine-house I saw the sage repair,

To the wine-house I saw the sage repair,
Bearing a wine-cup, and a mat for prayer;
I said, «O Shaikh, what does this conduct mean?»
Said he, «Go drink! the world is naught but air.»


by Omar Khayyam

Men's lusts, like house-dogs, still the house distress

Men's lusts, like house-dogs, still the house distress
With clamour, barking for mere wantonness;
Foxes are they, and sleep the sleep of hares;
Crafty as wolves, as tigers pitiless.


by Omar Khayyam

Still be the wine-house thronged with its glad choir,

Still be the wine-house thronged with its glad choir,
And Pharisaic skirts burnt up with fire,
Still be those tattered frocks and azure robes
Trod under feet of revellers in the mire.


by Omar Khayyam

If, like a ball, earth to my house were borne,

If, like a ball, earth to my house were borne,
When drunk, I'd rate it at a barley-corn;
Last night they offered me in pawn for wine,
But the rude vintner laughed that pledge to scorn.


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