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Famous Short Spanish Poems. Short Spanish Poetry by Famous Poets

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

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

 
by Sara Teasdale

Understanding

 I understood the rest too well,
And all their thoughts have come to be
Clear as grey sea-weed in the swell
Of a sunny shallow sea.
But you I never understood, Your spirit's secret hides like gold Sunk in a Spanish galleon Ages ago in waters cold.


by Amy Lowell

Sea Shell

 Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing me a song, O Please!
A song of ships, and sailor men,
And parrots, and tropical trees,
Of islands lost in the Spanish Main
Which no man ever may find again,
Of fishes and corals under the waves,
And seahorses stabled in great green caves.
Sea Shell, Sea Shell, Sing of the things you know so well.


by Dorothy Parker

After Spanish Proverb

 Oh, mercifullest one of all,
Oh, generous as dear,
None lived so lowly, none so small,
Thou couldst withhold thy tear:

How swift, in pure compassion,
How meek in charity,
To offer friendship to the one
Who begged but love of thee!

Oh, gentle word, and sweetest said!
Oh, tender hand, and first
To hold the warm, delicious bread
To lips burned black of thirst.


by Carl Sandburg

Dancer

 THE LADY in red, she in the chile con carne red,
Brilliant as the shine of a pepper crimson in the summer sun,
She behind a false-face, the much sought-after dancer, the most sought-after dancer of all in this masquerade,
The lady in red sox and red hat, ankles of willow, crimson arrow amidst the Spanish clashes of music,

 I sit in a corner
 watching her dance first with one man
 and then another.


by William Butler Yeats

Politics

 'In our time the destiny of man prevents its meanings
in political terms.
' -- Thomas Mann.
How can I, that girl standing there, My attention fix On Roman or on Russian Or on Spanish politics? Yet here's a travelled man that knows What he talks about, And there's a politician That has read and thought, And maybe what they say is true Of war and war's alarms, But O that I were young again And held her in my arms!


by Carolyn Forche

The Visitor

 In Spanish he whispers there is no time left.
It is the sound of scythes arcing in wheat, the ache of some field song in Salvador.
The wind along the prison, cautious as Francisco's hands on the inside, touching the walls as he walks, it is his wife's breath slipping into his cell each night while he imagines his hand to be hers.
It is a small country.
There is nothing one man will not do to another.