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Famous Short Sad Poems. Short Sad Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Sad Poems. Short Sad Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Sad 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 Amir Khosrow

Why

Why was the king thirsty?
Why was the donkey sad?


by Dorothy Parker

For A Sad Lady

 And let her loves, when she is dead,
Write this above her bones:
"No more she lives to give us bread
Who asked her only stones."


by Emily Dickinson

Are Friends Delight or Pain?

 Are Friends Delight or Pain?
Could Bounty but remain
Riches were good --

But if they only stay
Ampler to fly away
Riches are sad.


by Ogura Hyakunin Isshu

Sarumaru Tayu

In the mountain depths,
Treading through the crimson leaves,
Cries the wandering stag.
When I hear the lonely cry,
Sad,--how sad--the autumn is!


by Gelett Burgess

On Digital Extremities

 I'd Rather have Fingers than Toes; 
I'd Rather have Ears than a Nose; 
And As for my Hair, 
I'm Glad it's All There; 
I'll be Awfully Sad, when it Goes!


by William Allingham

An Evening

 A sunset's mounded cloud; 
A diamond evening-star; 
Sad blue hills afar; 
Love in his shroud. 

Scarcely a tear to shed; 
Hardly a word to say; 
The end of a summer day; 
Sweet Love dead.


by Emily Dickinson

I should not dare to be so sad

 I should not dare to be so sad
So many Years again --
A Load is first impossible
When we have put it down --

The Superhuman then withdraws
And we who never saw
The Giant at the other side
Begin to perish now.


by Dorothy Parker

A Very Short Song

 Once, when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad-
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.

Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.


by Jean Valentine

Elegy For Jane Kenyon

 Jane is big
with death, Don
sad and kind - Jane
though she's dying
is full of mind

We talk about the table
the little walnut one
how it's like
Emily Dickinson's

But Don says No
Dickinson's
was made of iron. No
said Jane
Of flesh.


by Emily Dickinson

How happy I was if I could forget

 How happy I was if I could forget
To remember how sad I am
Would be an easy adversity
But the recollecting of Bloom

Keeps making November difficult
Till I who was almost bold
Lose my way like a little Child
And perish of the cold.


by Robert Herrick

Discontents In Devon

 More discontents I never had
Since I was born, than here;
Where I have been, and still am, sad,
In this dull Devonshire.
Yet justly too I must confess,
I ne'er invented such
Ennobled numbers for the press,
Than where I loath'd so much.


by James Joyce

Gentle Lady Do Not Sing

 Gentle lady, do not sing 
Sad songs about the end of love; 
Lay aside sadness and sing 
How love that passes is enough. 

Sing about the long deep sleep 
Of lovers that are dead, and how 
In the grave all love shall sleep: 
Love is aweary now.


by Dorothy Parker

The Small Hours

 No more my little song comes back;
And now of nights I lay
My head on down, to watch the black
And wait the unfailing gray.

Oh, sad are winter nights, and slow;
And sad's a song that's dumb;
And sad it is to lie and know
Another dawn will come.


by Robert William Service

No Sourdough

 To be a bony feed Sourdough
You must, by Yukon Law,
Have killed a moose,
And robbed a sluice,
AND BUNKED UP WITH A SQUAW. . . .

Alas! Sourdough I'll never be.
Oh, sad is my excuse:
My shooting's so damn bad, you see . . .
I've never killed a moose.


by Dylan Thomas

Clown In The Moon

 My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.


by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Rondeau

 Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and welth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.


by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Jenny kissd Me

 Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and welth have miss'd me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.


by James Henry Leigh Hunt

Jenny Kissed Me

 Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kissed me.


by James Joyce

Be Not Sad

 Be not sad because all men 
Prefer a lying clamour before you: 
Sweetheart, be at peace again -- - 
Can they dishonour you? 

They are sadder than all tears; 
Their lives ascend as a continual sigh. 
Proudly answer to their tears: 
As they deny, deny.


by Li Po

About Tu Fu

 I met Tu Fu on a mountaintop
in August when the sun was hot.

Under the shade of his big straw hat
his face was sad--

in the years since we last parted,
he'd grown wan, exhausted.

Poor old Tu Fu, I thought then,
he must be agonizing over poetry again.


by Thomas Hood

The Death Bed

 We watch'd her breathing thro' the night,
Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.

But when the morn came dim and sad
And chill with early showers,
Her queit eyelids closed - she had
Another morn than ours.


by Li Bai

About Du Fu

I met Du Fu on a mountaintop

in August when the sun was hot.

Under the shade of his big straw hat

his face was sad--

in the years since we last parted,

he'd grown wane, exhausted.

Poor old Du Fu, I thought then,

he must be agonizing over poetry again.


by Sidney Lanier

The Palm And The Pine

 From the German of Heine.



In the far North stands a Pine-tree, lone,
Upon a wintry height;
It sleeps: around it snows have thrown
A covering of white.

It dreams forever of a Palm
That, far i' the Morning-land,
Stands silent in a most sad calm
Midst of the burning sand.


by Thomas Hardy

She At His Funeral

 THEY bear him to his resting-place--
In slow procession sweeping by;
I follow at a stranger's space;
His kindred they, his sweetheart I.
Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
Though sable-sad is their attire;
But they stand round with griefless eye,
Whilst my regret consumes like fire!


by Dorothy Parker

Fighting Words

 Say my love is easy had,
Say I'm bitten raw with pride,
Say I am too often sad-
Still behold me at your side.

Say I'm neither brave nor young,
Say I woo and coddle care,
Say the devil touched my tongue-
Still you have my heart to wear.

But say my verses do not scan,
And I get me another man!


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