Famous Alan Poems by Famous Poets

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

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Champagne 1914-15

by Alan Seeger
 In the glad revels, in the happy fetes, 
When cheeks are flushed, and glasses gilt and pearled 
With the sweet wine of France that concentrates 
The sunshine and the beauty of the world, 

Drink sometimes, you whose footsteps yet may tread 
The undisturbed, delightful paths of Earth, 
To those whose blood, in pious duty shed, 
Hallows the soil where...Read more of this...

Disobedience

by Alan Alexander (A A) Milne
James James
Morrison Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great
Care of his Mother,
Though he was only three.
James James Said to his Mother,
"Mother," he said, said he;
"You must never go down
to the end of the town,
if you don't go down with me."

James James
Morrison's Mother
Put on a golden gown.
James James Morrison's Mother
Drove to the end of the town.
James James Morrison's Mother
Said to herself, said she:
"I can...Read more of this...

Brownie

by Alan Alexander (A A) Milne
In a corner of the bedroom is a great big curtain,
Someone lives behind it, but I don't know who;
I think it is a Brownie, but I'm not quite certain.
(Nanny isn't certain, too.)

I looked behind the curtain, but he went so quickly -
Brownies never wait to say, "How do you do?"
They wriggle off at once because they're all so tickly
(Nanny says...Read more of this...

If I Were King

by Alan Alexander (A A) Milne
I often wish I were a King,
And then I could do anything.

If only I were King of Spain,
I'd take my hat off in the rain.

If only I were King of France,
I wouldn't brush my hair for aunts.

I think, if I were King of Greece,
I'd push things off the mantelpiece.

If I were King of Norroway,
I'd ask an elephant to stay.

If I...Read more of this...

The Torture of Cuauhtemoc

by Alan Seeger
 Their strength had fed on this when Death's white arms 
Came sleeved in vapors and miasmal dew, 
Curling across the jungle's ferny floor, 
Becking each fevered brain. On bleak divides, 
Where Sleep grew niggardly for nipping cold 
That twinged blue lips into a mouthed curse, 
Not back to Seville and its sunny plains 
Winged their brief-biding dreams, but once...Read more of this...

Paris

by Alan Seeger
 First, London, for its myriads; for its height, 
Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite; 
But Paris for the smoothness of the paths 
That lead the heart unto the heart's delight. . . . 


Fair loiterer on the threshold of those days 
When there's no lovelier prize the world displays 
Than, having beauty and your twenty years, 
You have the means...Read more of this...

Virginibus Puerisque . .

by Alan Seeger
 I care not that one listen if he lives 
For aught but life's romance, nor puts above 
All life's necessities the need to love, 
Nor counts his greatest wealth what Beauty gives. 
But sometime on an afternoon in spring, 
When dandelions dot the fields with gold, 
And under rustling shade a few weeks old 
'Tis sweet to stroll and...Read more of this...

How We Heard the Name

by Alan Dugan
 The river brought down
dead horses, dead men
and military debris,
indicative of war
or official acts upstream,
but it went by, it all
goes by, that is the thing
about the river. Then
a soldier on a log
went by. He seemed drunk
and we asked him Why
had he and this junk
come down to us so
from the past upstream.
''Friends,'' he said, ''the great
Battle of Granicus
has just been won
by...Read more of this...

Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton

by Alan Dugan
 The first and last time I met
my ex-lover Anne Sexton was at
a protest poetry reading against
some anti-constitutional war in Asia
when some academic son of a *****,
to test her reputation as a drunk,
gave her a beer glass full of wine
after our reading. She drank
it all down while staring me
full in the face and then said
"I don't care what you think,
you...Read more of this...

Eudaemon

by Alan Seeger
 O happiness, I know not what far seas, 
Blue hills and deep, thy sunny realms surround, 
That thus in Music's wistful harmonies 
And concert of sweet sound 
A rumor steals, from some uncertain shore, 
Of lovely things outworn or gladness yet in store: 


Whether thy beams be pitiful and come, 
Across the sundering of vanished years, 
From childhood and...Read more of this...

On Looking for Models

by Alan Dugan
 The trees in time
have something else to do
besides their treeing. What is it.
I'm a starving to death
man myself, and thirsty, thirsty
by their fountains but I cannot drink
their mud and sunlight to be whole.
I do not understand these presences
that drink for months
in the dirt, eat light,
and then fast dry in the cold.
They stand it out somehow,
and how, the Botanists will...Read more of this...

Broceliande

by Alan Seeger
 Broceliande! in the perilous beauty of silence and menacing shade, 
Thou art set on the shores of the sea down the haze 
of horizons untravelled, unscanned. 
Untroubled, untouched with the woes of this world 
are the moon-marshalled hosts that invade 
Broceliande. 


Only at dusk, when lavender clouds in the orient twilight disband, 
Vanishing where all the blue afternoon they...Read more of this...

Sonnet IX

by Alan Seeger
 Amid the florid multitude her face 
Was like the full moon seen behind the lace 
Of orchard boughs where clouded blossoms part 
When Spring shines in the world and in the heart. 
As the full-moon-beams to the ferny floor 
Of summer woods through flower and foliage pour, 
So to my being's innermost recess 
Flooded the light of so much...Read more of this...

Sonnet 05

by Alan Seeger
 Seeing you have not come with me, nor spent 
This day's suggestive beauty as we ought, 
I have gone forth alone and been content 
To make you mistress only of my thought. 
And I have blessed the fate that was so kind 
In my life's agitations to include 
This moment's refuge where my sense can find 
Refreshment, and my...Read more of this...

Hoppity

by Alan Alexander (A A) Milne
Christopher Robin goes
Hoppity, hoppity,
Hoppity, hoppity, hop.
Whenever I tell him
Politely to stop it, he
Says he can't possibly stop.

If he stopped hopping,
He couldn't go anywhere,
Poor little Christopher
Couldn't go anywhere...
That's why he always goes
Hoppity, hoppity,
Hoppity,
Hoppity,
Hop....Read more of this...

Do You Remember Once . .

by Alan Seeger
 Do you remember once, in Paris of glad faces, 
The night we wandered off under the third moon's rays 
And, leaving far behind bright streets and busy places, 
Stood where the Seine flowed down between its quiet quais? 


The city's voice was hushed; the placid, lustrous waters 
Mirrored the walls across where orange windows burned. 
Out of the starry...Read more of this...

Sonnet 10

by Alan Seeger
 I have sought Happiness, but it has been 
A lovely rainbow, baffling all pursuit, 
And tasted Pleasure, but it was a fruit 
More fair of outward hue than sweet within. 
Renouncing both, a flake in the ferment 
Of battling hosts that conquer or recoil, 
There only, chastened by fatigue and toil, 
I knew what came the nearest to content....Read more of this...

Juvenilia An Ode to Natural Beauty

by Alan Seeger
 There is a power whose inspiration fills 
Nature's fair fabric, sun- and star-inwrought, 
Like airy dew ere any drop distils, 
Like perfume in the laden flower, like aught 
Unseen which interfused throughout the whole 
Becomes its quickening pulse and principle and soul. 
Now when, the drift of old desire renewing, 
Warm tides flow northward over valley and field, 
When...Read more of this...

Bellinglise

by Alan Seeger
 Deep in the sloping forest that surrounds 
The head of a green valley that I know, 
Spread the fair gardens and ancestral grounds 
Of Bellinglise, the beautiful chateau. 
Through shady groves and fields of unmown grass, 
It was my joy to come at dusk and see, 
Filling a little pond's untroubled glass, 
Its antique towers and mouldering masonry. 
Oh,...Read more of this...

All Thats Not Love . .

by Alan Seeger
 All that's not love is the dearth of my days, 
The leaves of the volume with rubric unwrit, 
The temple in times without prayer, without praise, 
The altar unset and the candle unlit. 


Let me survive not the lovable sway 
Of early desire, nor see when it goes 
The courts of Life's abbey in ivied decay, 
Whence sometime sweet...Read more of this...

Sonnet 01

by Alan Seeger
 Sidney, in whom the heyday of romance 
Came to its precious and most perfect flower, 
Whether you tourneyed with victorious lance 
Or brought sweet roundelays to Stella's bower, 
I give myself some credit for the way 
I have kept clean of what enslaves and lowers, 
Shunned the ideals of our present day 
And studied those that were esteemed in...Read more of this...

Sonnet 06

by Alan Seeger
 Oh, you are more desirable to me 
Than all I staked in an impulsive hour, 
Making my youth the sport of chance, to be 
Blighted or torn in its most perfect flower; 
For I think less of what that chance may bring 
Than how, before returning into fire, 
To make my dearest memory of the thing 
That is but...Read more of this...

Sonnet 11

by Alan Seeger
 Apart sweet women (for whom Heaven be blessed), 
Comrades, you cannot think how thin and blue 
Look the leftovers of mankind that rest, 
Now that the cream has been skimmed off in you. 
War has its horrors, but has this of good -- 
That its sure processes sort out and bind 
Brave hearts in one intrepid brotherhood 
And leave...Read more of this...

Ariosto. Orlando Furioso Canto X 91-99

by Alan Seeger
 Ruggiero, to amaze the British host, 
And wake more wonder in their wondering ranks, 
The bridle of his winged courser loosed, 
And clapped his spurs into the creature's flanks; 
High in the air, even to the topmost banks 
Of crudded cloud, uprose the flying horse, 
And now above the Welsh, and now the Manx, 
And now across the sea...Read more of this...

The Old Lowe House Staten Island

by Alan Seeger
 Another prospect pleased the builder's eye, 
And Fashion tenanted (where Fashion wanes) 
Here in the sorrowful suburban lanes 
When first these gables rose against the sky. 
Relic of a romantic taste gone by, 
This stately monument alone remains, 
Vacant, with lichened walls and window-panes 
Blank as the windows of a skull. But I, 
On evenings when autumnal winds have...Read more of this...

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