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Famous Short Passion Poems. Short Passion Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Passion Poems. Short Passion Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Passion 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 Edward Lear

X was King Xerxes

X

was King Xerxes,
Who, more than all Turks, is
Renowned for his fashion
Of fury and passion.

x

Angry old Xerxes!


by Dorothy Parker

Unfortunate Coincidence

 By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.


by Louise Bogan

Knowledge

 Now that I know
How passion warms little
Of flesh in the mould,
And treasure is brittle,--

I'll lie here and learn
How, over their ground
Trees make a long shadow
And a light sound.


by Ezra Pound

The Bath-Tub

 As a bathtub lined with white porcelain, 
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid, 
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion, 
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.


by Lucy Maud Montgomery

The Poets Thought

 It came to him in rainbow dreams, 
Blent with the wisdom of the sages, 
Of spirit and of passion born; 
In words as lucent as the morn 
He prisoned it, and now it gleams 
A jewel shining through the ages.


by William Butler Yeats

He Reproves The Curlew

 O curlew, cry no more in the air,
Or only to the water in the West;
Because your crying brings to my mind
passion-dimmed eyes and long heavy hair
That was shaken out over my breast:
There is enough evil in the crying of wind.


by Amy Levy

Oh Is It Love?

 O is it Love or is it Fame,
This thing for which I sigh?
Or has it then no earthly name
For men to call it by?

I know not what can ease my pains,
Nor what it is I wish;
The passion at my heart-strings strains
Like a tiger in a leash.


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.
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by Emily Dickinson

Said Death to Passion

 Said Death to Passion
"Give of thine an Acre unto me.
" Said Passion, through contracting Breaths "A Thousand Times Thee Nay.
" Bore Death from Passion All His East He -- sovereign as the Sun Resituated in the West And the Debate was done.


by Marianne Moore

He Made This Screen

 not of silver nor of coral, 
but of weatherbeaten laurel.
Here, he introduced a sea uniform like tapestry; here, a fig-tree; there, a face; there, a dragon circling space -- designating here, a bower; there, a pointed passion-flower.


by Robert Louis Stevenson

It Blows A Snowing Gale

 IT blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year;
The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.
The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro, A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.
Autumn leaves and rain, The passion of the gale.


by Robert William Service

The Wistful One

 I sought the trails of South and North,
I wandered East and West;
But pride and passion drove me forth
And would not let me rest.
And still I seek, as still I roam, A snug roof overhead; Four walls, my own; a quiet home.
.
.
.
"You'll have it -- when you're dead.
"


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

BY THE RIVER.

 FLOW on, ye lays so loved, so fair,

On to Oblivion's ocean flow!
May no rapt boy recall you e'er,

No maiden in her beauty's glow!

My love alone was then your theme,

But now she scorns my passion true.
Ye were but written in the stream; As it flows on, then, flow ye too! 1798.
*


by William Butler Yeats

A Poet To His Beloved

 I bring you with reverent hands
The books of my numberless dreams,
White woman that passion has worn
As the tide wears the dove-grey sands,
And with heart more old than the horn
That is brimmed from the pale fire of time:
White woman with numberless dreams,
I bring you my passionate rhyme.


by Vladimir Mayakovsky

Attitude To A Miss

 That night was to decide
if she and I
were to be lovers.
Under cover of darkness no one would see, you see.
I bent over her, it’s the truth, and as I did, it’s the truth, I swear it, I said like a kindly parent: “Passion’s a precipice – so won’t you please move away? Move away, please!”


by Claude McKay

Flirtation

 UPON thy purple mat thy body bare 
Is fine and limber like a tender tree.
The motion of thy supple form is rare, Like a lithe panther lolling languidly, Toying and turning slowly in her lair.
Oh, I would never ask for more of thee, Thou art so clean in passion and so fair.
Enough! if thou wilt ask no more of me!


by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Loves Prayer

 Beloved, this the heart I offer thee 
Is purified from old idolatry, 
From outworn hopes, and from the lingering stain 
Of passion's dregs, by penitential pain.
Take thou it, then, and fill it up for me With thine unstinted love, and it shall be An earthy chalice that is made divine By its red draught of sacramental wine.


by William Strode

On The Life Of Man

 What is our life? a play of passion;
Our mirth the musick of division:
Our mother's wombes the tyring houses bee
Where wee are drest for tyme's short comedy:
The earth's the stage, heaven the spectator is,
Who marketh still whoere doth act amisse:
Our graves that hide us from the burning sunne
Are but drawne curtaynes when the play is done


by George (Lord) Byron

I would to heaven that I were so much clay

 I would to heaven that I were so much clay,
As I am blood, bone, marrow, passion, feeling -
Because at least the past were passed away -
And for the future - (but I write this reeling,
Having got drunk exceedingly today,
So that I seem to stand upon the ceiling)
I say - the future is a serious matter - 
And so - for God's sake - hock and soda water!


by Claude McKay

The Citys Love

 For one brief golden moment rare like wine, 
The gracious city swept across the line; 
Oblivious of the color of my skin, 
Forgetting that I was an alien guest, 
She bent to me, my hostile heart to win, 
Caught me in passion to her pillowy breast; 
The great, proud city, seized with a strange love, 
Bowed down for one flame hour my pride to prove.


by Alexander Pushkin

The Dream

 Not long ago, in a charming dream,
I saw myself -- a king with crown's treasure;
I was in love with you, it seemed,
And heart was beating with a pleasure.
I sang my passion's song by your enchanting knees.
Why, dreams, you didn't prolong my happiness forever? But gods deprived me not of whole their favor: I only lost the kingdom of my dreams.


by Vachel Lindsay

Shakespeare

 Would that in body and spirit Shakespeare came 
Visible emperor of the deeds of Time, 
With Justice still the genius of his rhyme, 
Giving each man his due, each passion grace, 
Impartial as the rain from Heaven's face 
Or sunshine from the heaven-enthroned sun.
Sweet Swan of Avon, come to us again.
Teach us to write, and writing, to be men.


by William Butler Yeats

The Falling Of The Leaves

 Autumn is over the long leaves that love us,
And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.
The hour of the waning of love has beset us, And weary and worn are our sad souls now; Let us patt, ere the season of passion forget us, With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

FROM THE SORROWS OF YOUNG WERTHER.

 [Prefixed to the second edition.
] EV'RY youth for love's sweet portion sighs, Ev'ry maiden sighs to win man's love; Why, alas! should bitter pain arise From the noblest passion that we prove? Thou, kind soul, bewailest, lov'st him well, From disgrace his memory's saved by thee; Lo, his spirit signs from out its cell: BE A MAN, NOR SEEK TO FOLLOW ME.
1775.


by Robert Burns

483. Esteem for Chloris

 AH, Chloris, since it may not be,
 That thou of love wilt hear;
If from the lover thou maun flee,
 Yet let the friend be dear.
Altho’ I love my Chloris mair Than ever tongue could tell; My passion I will ne’er declare— I’ll say, I wish thee well.
Tho’ a’ my daily care thou art, And a’ my nightly dream, I’ll hide the struggle in my heart, And say it is esteem.


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