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Famous Short March Poems. Short March Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short March Poems. Short March Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best March 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 Barry Tebb

WAKING

 Wires toss in the wind, shrubs flap

And the tap on windows wakes us

To March’s mistral madness:

I see white crocuses amid the rain.


by Stephen Crane

On the horizon the peaks assembled

 On the horizon the peaks assembled;
And as I looked,
The march of the mountains began.
As they marched, they sang, "Aye! We come! We come!"


by Emily Dickinson

Spring is the Period

 Spring is the Period
Express from God.
Among the other seasons Himself abide, But during March and April None stir abroad Without a cordial interview With God.


by Mother Goose

The Merchants Of London


Hey diddle dinkety poppety pet,
The merchants of London they wear scarlet,
Silk in the collar and gold in the hem,
So merrily march the merchant men.


by Emily Dickinson

March is the Month of Expectation.

 March is the Month of Expectation.
The things we do not know -- The Persons of prognostication Are coming now -- We try to show becoming firmness -- But pompous Joy Betrays us, as his first Betrothal Betrays a Boy.


by Emily Dickinson

The ones that disappeared are back

 The ones that disappeared are back
The Phoebe and the Crow
Precisely as in March is heard
The curtness of the Jay --
Be this an Autumn or a Spring
My wisdom loses way
One side of me the nuts are ripe
The other side is May.


by Robert Burns

172. Note to Mr. Renton of Lamerton

 YOUR billet, Sir, I grant receipt;
Wi’ you I’ll canter ony gate,
Tho’ ’twere a trip to yon blue warl’,
Whare birkies march on burning marl:
Then, Sir, God willing, I’ll attend ye,
And to his goodness I commend ye.
R.
BURNS


by Li Po

Farewell to Meng Hao-jan

 I took leave of you, old friend, at the 
Yellow Crane Pavilion; 
In the mist and bloom of March, you went 
down to Yang-chou: 
A lonely sail, distant shades, extinguished by blue-- 
There, at the horizon, where river meets sky.


by Emily Dickinson

A prompt -- executive Bird is the Jay --

 A prompt -- executive Bird is the Jay --
Bold as a Bailiff's Hymn --
Brittle and Brief in quality --
Warrant in every line --

Sitting a Bough like a Brigadier
Confident and straight --
Much is the mien of him in March
As a Magistrate --


by William Butler Yeats

Father And Child

 She hears me strike the board and say
That she is under ban
Of all good men and women,
Being mentioned with a man
That has the worst of all bad names;
And thereupon replies
That his hair is beautiful,
Cold as the March wind his eyes.


by Walt Whitman

Race of Veterans.

 RACE of veterans! Race of victors! 
Race of the soil, ready for conflict! race of the conquering march! 
(No more credulity’s race, abiding-temper’d race;) 
Race henceforth owning no law but the law of itself; 
Race of passion and the storm.
5


by Stephen Crane

Friend your white beard sweeps the ground

 Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground.
Why do you stand, expectant? Do you hope to see it In one of your withered days? With your old eyes Do you hope to see The triumphal march of justice? Do not wait, friend! Take your white beard And your old eyes To more tender lands.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

TO HIS COY ONE.

 SEEST thou yon smiling Orange?
Upon the tree still hangs it;
Already March bath vanish'd,
And new-born flow'rs are shooting.
I draw nigh to the tree then, And there I say: Oh Orange, Thou ripe and juicy Orange, Thou sweet and luscious Orange, I shake the tree, I shake it, Oh fall into my lap! 1789.
*


by Emily Dickinson

The Robin is the One

 The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried -- few -- express Reports
When March is scarcely on --

The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity --
An April but begun --

The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home -- and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best


by Emily Dickinson

Their Barricade against the Sky

 Their Barricade against the Sky
The martial Trees withdraw
And with a Flag at every turn
Their Armies are no more.
What Russet Halts in Nature's March They indicate or cause An inference of Mexico Effaces the Surmise -- Recurrent to the After Mind That Massacre of Air -- The Wound that was not Wound nor Scar But Holidays of War


by Emily Dickinson

After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside --

 After all Birds have been investigated and laid aside --
Nature imparts the little Blue-Bird -- assured
Her conscientious Voice will soar unmoved
Above ostensible Vicissitude.
First at the March -- competing with the Wind -- Her panting note exalts us -- like a friend -- Last to adhere when Summer cleaves away -- Elegy of Integrity.


by A E Housman

Twice a Week the Winter Thorough

 Twice a week the winter thorough 
Here stood I to keep the goal: 
Football then was fighting sorrow 
For the young man's soul.
Now in Maytime to the wicket Out I march with bat and pad: See the son of grief at cricket Trying to be glad.
Try I will; no harm in trying: Wonder 'tis how little mirth Keeps the bones of man from lying On the bed of earth.


by Mother Goose

March Winds


March winds and April showers
Bring forth May flowers.

    Hot-cross Buns!
    Hot-cross Buns!
One a penny, two a penny,
    Hot-cross Buns!
    Hot-cross Buns!
    Hot-cross Buns!
If ye have no daughters,
Give them to your sons.


by Gerard Manley Hopkins

At The Wedding March

 God with honour hang your head,
Groom, and grace you, bride, your bed
With lissome scions, sweet scions,
Out of hallowed bodies bred.
Each be other's comfort kind: Déep, déeper than divined, Divine charity, dear charity, Fast you ever, fast bind.
Then let the March tread our ears: I to him turn with tears Who to wedlock, his wonder wedlock, Déals tríumph and immortal years.


by Amy Levy

Between the Showers

 Between the showers I went my way,
The glistening street was bright with flowers;
It seemed that March had turned to May
Between the showers.
Above the shining roofs and towers The blue broke forth athwart the grey; Birds carolled in their leafless bowers.
Hither and tither, swift and gay, The people chased the changeful hours; And you, you passed and smiled that day, Between the showers.


by Henry Van Dyke

America

 I love thine inland seas, 
Thy groves of giant trees,
Thy rolling plains;
Thy rivers' mighty sweep, 
Thy mystic canyons deep, 
Thy mountains wild and steep,
All thy domains; 

Thy silver Eastern strands, 
Thy Golden Gate that stands
Wide to the West;
Thy flowery Southland fair, 
Thy sweet and crystal air, --
O land beyond compare,
Thee I love best! 

Additional verses for the 
National Hymn, 
March, 1906.


by Belinda Subraman

Yin Yang

 At the edge of winter
in crisp early March
a dull thud of numbness
delays joy and sadness
that will make us weep.
In the flow of life every aspect bears its opposite.
Between extremes there’s the balance of peace or peace in the realization of balance.
With the warm blanket of knowledge is the freezing cold of truth.
We are greeted with tears as we come into this world and tears as we go out.


by Walt Whitman

An Army Corps on the March.

 WITH its cloud of skirmishers in advance, 
With now the sound of a single shot, snapping like a whip, and now an irregular volley, 
The swarming ranks press on and on, the dense brigades press on; 
Glittering dimly, toiling under the sun—the dust-cover’d men, 
In columns rise and fall to the undulations of the ground,
With artillery interspers’d—the wheels rumble, the horses sweat, 
As the army corps advances.


by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Marzo Pazzo

 Mad March, with the wind in his wings wide-spread,
Leaps from heaven, and the deep dawn's arch
Hails re-risen again from the dead
Mad March.
Soft small flames on rowan and larch Break forth as laughter on lips that said Nought till the pulse in them beat love's march.
But the heartbeat now in the lips rose-red Speaks life to the world, and the winds that parch Bring April forth as a bride to wed Mad March.


by Federico García Lorca

Serenata

 The night soaks itself
along the shore of the river
and in Lolita's breasts
the branches die of love.
The branches die of love.
Naked the night sings above the bridges of March.
Lolita bathes her body with salt water and roses.
The branches die of love.
The night of anise and silver shines over the rooftops.
Silver of streams and mirrors Anise of your white thighs.
The branches die of love.


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