Famous Adam Poems by Famous Poets

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

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The Last Leap

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 ALL is over! fleet career, 
Dash of greyhound slipping thongs, 
Flight of falcon, bound of deer, 
Mad hoof-thunder in our rear, 
Cold air rushing up our lungs, 
Din of many tongues. 

Once again, one struggle good, 
One vain effort;—he must dwell 
Near the shifted post, that stood 
Where the splinters of the wood, 
Lying in the torn tracks, tell...Read more of this...

Gone

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 THE last, late guest 
To the gate we followed; 
Goodbye -- and the rest 
The night-wind swallowed. 

House, garden, street, 
Lay tenfold gloomy, 
Where accents sweet 
Had made music to me. 

It was but a feast 
With the dark coming on; 
She was but a guest -- 
And now, she is gone....Read more of this...

Adam

by Rainer Maria Rilke
 High above he stands, beside the many
saintly figures fronting the cathedral's
gothic tympanum, close by the window
called the rose, and looks astonished at his

own deification which placed him there.
Erect and proud he smiles, and quite enjoys
this feat of his survival, willed by choice.

As labourer in the fields he made his start
and through his efforts brought to full fruition
the garden God...Read more of this...

Adam Weirauch

by Edgar Lee Masters
 I was crushed between Altgeld and Armour.
I lost many friends, much time and money
Fighting for Altgeld whom Editor Whedon
Denounced as the candidate of gamblers and anarchists.
Then Armour started to ship dressed meat to Spoon River,
Forcing me to shut down my slaughter-house,
And my butcher shop went all to pieces.
The new forces of Altgeld and Armour caught me
At the same time.
I...Read more of this...

A Dedication

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 They are rhymes rudely strung with intent less 
Of sound than of words,
In lands where bright blossoms are scentless,
And songless bright birds;
Where, with fire and fierce drought on her tresses,
Insatiable Summer oppresses
Sere woodlands and sad wildernesses,
And faint flocks and herds. 
Where in drieariest days, when all dews end,
And all winds are warm,
Wild Winter's large floodgates are loosen'd,
And floods, freed...Read more of this...

As Adam Early in the Morning

by Walt Whitman
 AS Adam, early in the morning, 
Walking forth from the bower, refresh’d with sleep; 
Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach, 
Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body as I pass; 
Be not afraid of my Body. 5...Read more of this...

Thirty Bob a Week

by John Davidson
 I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw,
And set the blooming world a-work for me,
Like such as cut their teeth -- I hope, like you --
On the handle of a skeleton gold key;
I cut mine on a leek, which I eat it every week:
I'm a clerk at thirty bob as you can see.

But I don't allow it's luck...Read more of this...

Adam Posed

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Could our first father, at his toilsome plow,
Thorns in his path, and labor on his brow,
Clothed only in a rude, unpolished skin,
Could he a vain fantastic nymph have seen,
In all her airs, in all her antic graces,
Her various fashions, and more various faces;
How had it posed that skill, which late assigned
Just appellations to each several kind!
A right idea of the...Read more of this...

Whispering in Wattle -Boughs

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 OH, gaily sings the bird! and the wattle-boughs are stirred 
And rustled by the scented breath of Spring; 
Oh, the dreary wistful longing! Oh, the faces that are thronging! 
Oh, the voices that are vaguely whispering! 

Oh, tell me, father mine, ere the good ship crossed the brine, 
On the gangway one mute handgrip we exchanged, 
Do you, past...Read more of this...

An Exiles Farewell

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 The ocean heaves around us still
With long and measured swell,
The autumn gales our canvas fill,
Our ship rides smooth and well.
The broad Atlantic's bed of foam
Still breaks against our prow;
I shed no tears at quitting home,
Nor will I shed them now!

Against the bulwarks on the poop
I lean, and watch the sun
Behind the red horizon stoop —
His race is nearly run.
Those...Read more of this...

Taking up the fair Ideal

by Emily Dickinson
 Taking up the fair Ideal,
Just to cast her down
When a fracture -- we discover --
Or a splintered Crown --
Makes the Heavens portable --
And the Gods -- a lie --
Doubtless -- "Adam" -- scowled at Eden --
For his perjury!

Cherishing -- our pool Ideal --
Till in purer dress --
We behold her -- glorified --
Comforts -- search -- like this --
Till the...Read more of this...

Adam Cast Forth

by Jorge Luis Borges
 Was there a Garden or was the Garden a dream?
Amid the fleeting light, I have slowed myself and queried,
Almost for consolation, if the bygone period
Over which this Adam, wretched now, once reigned supreme,

Might not have been just a magical illusion
Of that God I dreamed. Already it's imprecise
In my memory, the clear Paradise,
But I know it exists, in flower and...Read more of this...

The Sick Stockrider

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 Hold hard, Ned! Lift me down once more, and lay me in the shade. 
Old man, you've had your work cut out to guide 
Both horses, and to hold me in the saddle when I swayed, 
All through the hot, slow, sleepy, silent ride. 
The dawn at "Moorabinda" was a mist rack dull and dense, 
The sun-rise was a...Read more of this...

Gone

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 IN Collins Street standeth a statute tall, 
A statue tall, on a pillar of stone, 
Telling its story, to great and small, 
Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone; 
Weary and wasted, and worn and wan, 
Feeble and faint, and languid and low, 
He lay on the desert a dying man; 
Who has gone, my friends, where...Read more of this...

A Song of Autumn

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 ‘WHERE shall we go for our garlands glad 
At the falling of the year, 
When the burnt-up banks are yellow and sad, 
When the boughs are yellow and sere? 
Where are the old ones that once we had, 
And when are the new ones near? 
What shall we do for our garlands glad 
At the falling of the year?’...Read more of this...

The Swimmer

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 With short, sharp violent lights made vivid,
To the southward far as the sight can roam,
Only the swirl of the surges livid,
The seas that climb and the surfs that comb,
Only the crag and the cliff to nor'ward,
And rocks receding, and reefs flung forward,
And waifs wreck'd seaward and wasted shoreward
On shallows sheeted with flaming foam.

A grim grey coast and a seaboard...Read more of this...

Spirit

by Anne Bradstreet
 Be still, thou unregenerate part, 
Disturb no more my settled heart, 
For I have vow'd (and so will do) 
Thee as a foe still to pursue, 
And combat with thee will and must 
Until I see thee laid in th' dust. 
Sister we are, yea twins we be, 
Yet deadly feud 'twixt thee and me, 
For from one father...Read more of this...

79. Adam Armour's Prayer

by Robert Burns
 GUDE pity me, because I’m little!
For though I am an elf o’ mettle,
An’ can, like ony wabster’s shuttle,
 Jink there or here,
Yet, scarce as lang’s a gude kail-whittle,
 I’m unco *****.


An’ now Thou kens our waefu’ case;
For Geordie’s jurr we’re in disgrace,
Because we stang’d her through the place,
 An’ hurt her spleuchan;
For whilk we daurna show our face
 Within...Read more of this...

Adam Posd

by Anne Kingsmill Finch
 Cou'd our First Father, at his toilsome Plough,
Thorns in his Path, and Labour on his Brow,
Cloath'd only in a rude, unpolish'd Skin,
Cou'd he a vain Fantastick Nymph have seen,
In all her Airs, in all her antick Graces, 
Her various Fashions, and more various Faces;
How had it pos'd that Skill, which late assign'd
Just Appellations to Each several Kind!
A right Idea...Read more of this...

In The Cool Of The Evening

by James Stephens
 I thought I heard Him calling. Did you hear 
A sound, a little sound? My curious ear 
Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree 
Goes -- whisper, whisper, whisper silently 
Till all its whispers spread into the sound 
Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground, 
The shade is deep and He may pass us by. 
We...Read more of this...

Under Ben Bulben

by William Butler Yeats
 I

Swear by what the sages spoke
Round the Mareotic Lake
That the Witch of Atlas knew,
Spoke and set the cocks a-crow.

Swear by those horsemen, by those women
Complexion and form prove superhuman,
That pale, long-visaged company
That air in immortality
Completeness of their passions won;
Now they ride the wintry dawn
Where Ben Bulben sets the scene.

Here's the gist of what they mean.

 II

Many times man lives...Read more of this...

Hymn 57

by Isaac Watts
 Original sin.

Rom. 5:12, etc.; Psa. 51:5; Job 14:4. 

Backward with humble shame we look
On our original;
How is our nature dashed and broke
In our first father's fall!

To all that's good averse and blind,
But prone to all that's ill
What dreadful darkness veils our mind!
How obstinate our will!

[Conceived in sin, O wretched state!
Before we draw our breath
The first young pulse begins to...Read more of this...

Fern Hill

by Dylan Thomas
 Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
 The night above the dingle starry,
 Time let me hail and climb
 Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
And once below a time I lordly had the trees...Read more of this...

Cripples And Other Stories

by Anne Sexton
 My doctor, the comedian
I called you every time
and made you laugh yourself
when I wrote this silly rhyme...


 Each time I give lectures
 or gather in the grants
 you send me off to boarding school
 in training pants.

God damn it, father-doctor,
I'm really thirty-six.
I see dead rats in the toilet.
I'm one of the lunatics.

Disgusted, mother put me
on the potty. She was...Read more of this...

Thoras Song (Ashtaroth)

by Adam Lindsay Gordon
 We severed in Autumn early,
Ere the earth was torn by the plough;
The wheat and the oats and the barley
Are ripe for the harvest now.
We sunder'd one misty morning
Ere the hills were dimm'd by the rain;
Through the flowers those hills adorning --
Thou comest not back again.

My heart is heavy and weary
With the weight of a weary soul;
The mid-day glare grows...Read more of this...

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