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Famous Acre Poems by Famous Poets

These are examples of famous Acre poems written by some of the greatest and most-well-known modern and classical poets. PoetrySoup is a great educational poetry resource of famous acre poems. These examples illustrate what a famous acre poem looks like and its form, scheme, or style (where appropriate).

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by Burns, Robert

In vain auld age his body batters,
In vain the gout his ancles fetters,
In vain the burns cam down like waters,
 An acre braid!
Now ev’ry auld wife, greetin, clatters
 “Tam Samson’s dead!”

Owre mony a weary hag he limpit,
An’ aye the tither shot he thumpit,
Till coward Death behind him jumpit,
 Wi’ deadly feid;
Now he proclaims wi’ tout o’ trumpet,
 “Tam Samson’s dead!”

When at his heart he felt the dagger,
He reel’d his wonted bottle-swagger,
But yet he drew the mort...Read More

by Yeats, William Butler
...Picture and book remain,
An acre of green grass
For air and exercise,
Now strength of body goes;
Midnight, an old house
Where nothing stirs but a mouse.

My temptation is quiet.
Here at life's end
Neither loose imagination,
Nor the mill of the mind
Consuming its rag and bonc,
Can make the truth known.

Grant me an old man's frenzy,
Myself must I remake
Till I am Timon and L...Read More

by Parker, Dorothy
Wearing shower bouquets of rue, 
Walk I ever in penitence. 
Oft I roam, as my heart repents, 
Through God's acre of memory, 
Marking stones, in my reverence, 
"I loved them until they loved me." 

Pictures pass me in long review,-- 
Marching columns of dead events. 
I was tender, and, often, true; 
Ever a prey to coincidence. 
Always knew I the consequence; 
Always saw what the end would be. 
We're as Nature has made us -- hence 
I loved them until...Read More

by Tebb, Barry
...dens of Knostrop,

Lupin valley will glow again with blossom,

Late narcissi bend in the wind.


In Golden Acre Park no more

The miniature Railway, boating

On the lake with motor launch

Or self-propelled boat,

No more the water chute,

Pitch and puff golf, aviary

Paddling pool, aeroflight,

Bathing pool, music tower,

All, all are gone.

The winter garden Dance Pavilion

Is gone from Golden Acre Park

Only the kingfisher’s blue flash

As it rides to it...Read More

by Dickinson, Emily
...s as with a Comb—
A spotted shaft is seen—
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on—

He likes a Boggy Acre
A Floor too cool for Corn—
Yet when a Boy, and Barefoot—
I more than once at Noon
Have passed, I thought, a Whip lash
Unbraiding in the Sun
When stooping to secure it
It wrinkled, and was gone—

Several of Nature's People
I know, and they know me—
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality—

But never met this Fellow
Attended, or alone
Wi...Read More

by Thomas, Dylan
...orchards sow the seeds of snow,
In your young years the vegetable century.

And father all nor fail the fly-lord's acre,
Nor sprout on owl-seed like a goblin-sucker,
But rail with your wizard's ribs the heart-shaped planet;
Of mortal voices to the ninnies' choir,
High lord esquire, speak up the singing cloud,
And pluck a mandrake music from the marrowroot.

Roll unmanly over this turning tuft,
O ring of seas, nor sorrow as I shift
From all my mortal lovers with a sta...Read More

by Gregory, Rg
loaded down the hill
before we bunch ashore

eyes within their windows
we walk
(a town must live
must have its acre of normality
let hate sport
its bright shirt in the shadows)
we shop
collect our duty-murdered goods
compare bargains
laugh grieve
at benefit or loss
aden dead-pan
leans against our words
which hand invisible
knows how to print a bomb
ejaculate a knife
does tourist greed embroil us in
or shelter us from guilt

a sailor drunk
gyrates within a ...Read More

by Thomas, Dylan
Into the stony idiom of the brain,
To shade and knit anew the patch of words
Left by the dead who, in their moonless acre,
Need no word's warmth.
The root of tongues ends in a spentout cancer,
That but a name, where maggots have their X.

I learnt the verbs of will, and had my secret;
The code of night tapped on my tongue;
What had been one was many sounding minded.

One wound, one mind, spewed out the matter,
One breast gave suck the fever's issue;
From the di...Read More

by Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth
...I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls
The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just;
It consecrates each grave within its walls,
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.

God's-Acre! Yes, that blessed name imparts
Comfort to those, who in the grave have sown
The seed that they had garnered in their hearts,
Their bread of life, alas! no more their own.

Into its furrows shall we all be cast,
In the sure faith, ...Read More

by Dickinson, Emily
...It was a Grave, yet bore no Stone
Enclosed 'twas not of Rail
A Consciousness its Acre, and
It held a Human Soul.

Entombed by whom, for what offence
If Home or Foreign born --
Had I the curiosity
'Twere not appeased of men

Till Resurrection, I must guess
Denied the small desire
A Rose upon its Ridge to sow
Or take away a Briar....Read More

by Yeats, William Butler

 II. My House

An ancient bridge, and a more ancient tower,
A farmhouse that is sheltered by its wall,
An acre of stony ground,
Where the symbolic rose can break in flower,
Old ragged elms, old thorns innumerable,
The sound of the rain or sound
Of every wind that blows;
The stilted water-hen
Crossing Stream again
Scared by the splashing of a dozen cows;

A winding stair, a chamber arched with stone,
A grey stone fireplace with an open hearth,
A candle and writte...Read More

by Kipling, Rudyard
...rward I keep my cash in my coffer,
 Because the Lord has afflicted me.


I run eight hundred hens to the acre
 They die by dozens mysteriously. . . .
I am more than doubtful concerning my Maker,
 Why has the Lord afflicted me?
What a return for all my endeavour--
 Not to mention the L. S. D!
I am an atheist now and for ever,
 Because this God has afflicted me!


Money spent on an Army or Fleet
 Is homicidal lunacy. .Read More

by Dickinson, Emily
...On my volcano grows the Grass
A meditative spot --
An acre for a Bird to choose
Would be the General thought --

How red the Fire rocks below --
How insecure the sod
Did I disclose
Would populate with awe my solitude....Read More

by Sandburg, Carl, chasing his tail round a corncrib,
The phantom of an old workhorse taking the steel point of a plow across a forty-acre field in spring, hitched to a harrow in summer, hitched to a wagon among cornshocks in fall,
These phantoms come into the talk and wonder of people on the front porch of a farmhouse late summer nights.
“The shapes that are gone are here,” said an old man with a cob pipe in his teeth one night in Kansas with a hot wind on the alfalfa.. . ...Read More

by Kipling, Rudyard
...e lonely cairns I builded they will guide my feet aright.

Have I named one single river? Have I claimed one single acre?
 Have I kept one single nugget -- (barring samples)? No, not I!
Because my price was paid me ten times over by my Maker.
 But you wouldn't understand it. You go up and occupy.

Ores you'll find there; wood and cattle; water-transit sure and steady
 (That should keep the railway rates down), coal and iron at your doors.
God took care to ...Read More

by Tennyson, Alfred Lord
...little Annie, an Annie like you:
Pattering over the boards, she comes and goes at her will,
While Harry is in the five-acre and Charlie ploughing the hill. 

And Harry and Charlie, I hear them too--they sing to their team:
Often they come to the door in a pleasant kind of a dream.
They come and sit by my chair, they hover about my bed--
I am not always certain if they be alive or dead. 

And yet I know for a truth, there's none of them left ali...Read More

by Lux, Thomas
...each day mowed
and mowed his lawn, his dry quarter acre,
the machine slicing a wisp
from each blade's tip. Dust storms rose
around the roar: 6:00 P.M., every day,
spring, summer, fall. If he could mow
the snow he would.
On one side, his neighbors the cows
turned their backs to him
and did what they do to the grass.
Where he worked, I don't know
but it sets his jaw to: tight.
His w...Read More

by Atwood, Margaret
...The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a v...Read More

by Pound, Ezra
...m widest draweth.
So that but now my heart burst from my breast-lock,
My mood 'mid the mere-flood,
Over the whale's acre, would wander wide.
On earth's shelter cometh oft to me,
Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer,
Whets for the whale-path the heart irresistibly,
O'er tracks of ocean; seeing that anyhow
My lord deems to me this dead life
On loan and on land, I believe not
That any earth-weal eternal standeth
Save there be somewhat calamitous
That, ere a man's tide ...Read More

by Verhaeren, Emile
The crosses that stand in the narrow churchyard
Fall prone on the sod
Like some great flight of black, in the acre of God.

The wind of November!
Have you met him, the savage wind, do you remember?
Did he pass you so fleet,
—Where, yon at the cross, the three hundred roads meet—
With distressfulness panting, and wailing with cold?
Yea, he who breeds fears and puts all things to flight,
Did you see him, that night
When the moon he o'erthrew—when the villag...Read More

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