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Famous Antonio Poems by Famous Poets

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

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by Stevenson, Robert Louis
...NOW Antoninus, in a smiling age,
Counts of his life the fifteenth finished stage.
The rounded days and the safe years he sees,
Nor fears death's water mounting round his knees.
To him remembering not one day is sad,
Not one but that its memory makes him glad.
So good men lengthen life; and to recall
The past is to have twice enjoyed it all....Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Hills of silver plate,
grey heights, dark red rocks
through which the Duero bends
its crossbow arc
round Soria, shadowed oaks,
stone dry-lands, naked mountains,
white roads and river poplars,
twilights of Soria, warlike and mystical,
today I feel, for you, 
in my hearts depths, sadness,
sadness of love! Fields of Soria,
where it seems the stones have dream...Read More

by Eliot, George
...r of the violin:
You praised him, praised the great Sabastian too
Who made that fine Chaconne; but did you think
Of old Antonio Stradivari? -him
Who a good century and a half ago
Put his true work in that brown instrument
And by the nice adjustment of its frame
Gave it responsive life, continuous
With the master's finger-tips and perfected
Like them by delicate rectitude of use.
That plain white-aproned man, who stood at work
Patient and accurate full fourscore years,
Che...Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Guadarrama, is it you, old friend,
mountains white and gray
that I used to see painted against the blue
those afternoons of the old days in Madrid?
Up your deep ravines
and past your bristling peaks
a thousand Guadarramas and a thousand suns
come riding with me, riding to your heart....Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams
stopped working, the waterwheel
of the mind run dry,
scoops turning empty,
only shadow inside?

No, my heart is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
Not asleep, not dreaming—
its eyes are opened wide
watching distant signals, listening
on the rim of vast silence....Read More

by Lanier, Sidney
...g, and start,
And do a grace for me.

Over the huge and huddling sea,
Over the Caliban sea,
Bring hither my brother Antonio, -- Man, --
My injurer: night breaks the ban;
Brother, I pardon thee.

Baltimore, 1879-80.

IV. The Marshes of Glynn.

Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven
With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven
Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, --
Emerald twilights, --
Virginal shy lights,
Wrought of th...Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making wh...Read More

by García Lorca, Federico
...ejones al agua gris,
cuando los erales sue?an
ver?nicas de alhel?,
voces de muerte sonaron
cerca del Guadalquivir.

Antonio Torres Heredia,
Camborio de dura crin,
moreno de verde luna,
voz de clavel varonil:
?qui?n te ha quitado la vida 
cerca del Guadalquivir?
Mis cuatro primos Heredias
hijos de Benamej?.
Lo que en otros no envidiaban,
ya lo envidiaban en m?.
Zapatos color corinto,
medallones de marfil,
y este cutis amasado
con aceituna y jazm?n.
?Ay Anto?ito...Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Who set, between those rocks like cinder,
to show the honey of dream,
that golden broom,
those blue rosemaries?
Who painted the purple mountains
and the saffron, sunset sky?
The hermitage, the beehives,
the cleft of the river
the endless rolling water deep in rocks,
the pale-green of new fields,
all of it, even the white and pink
under the almond trees!...Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Soria, in blue mountains,
on the fields of violet,
how often I’ve dreamed of you
on the plain of flowers,
where the Guadalquivir runs
past golden orange-trees
to the sea....Read More

by Petrarch, Francesco
...SONNET XCVI. Quelle pietose rime, in ch' io m' accorsi. TO ANTONIO OF FERRARA, WHO, IN A POEM, HAD LAMENTED PETRARCH'S SUPPOSED DEATH.  Those pious lines wherein are finely metProofs of high genius and a spirit kind,Had so much influence on my grateful mindT...Read More

by Sandburg, Carl
...ig guns.
Make a marching song of swinging arms and swinging legs,
 Going along,
 Going along,
On the roads from San Antonio to Athens, from Seattle to Bagdad—
The boys and men in winding lines of khaki, the circling squares of bayonet points.

Cowpunchers, cornhuskers, shopmen, ready in khaki;
Ballplayers, lumberjacks, ironworkers, ready in khaki;
A million, ten million, singing, “I am ready.”
This the sun looks on between two seaboards,
In the land of Lincoln, in...Read More

by Byron, George (Lord)
..., that they took it, and put most of the garrison, with Signior Minotti, the governor, to the sword. The rest, with Antonio Bembo, proveditor extraordinary, were made prisoners of war." — History of the Turks, vol. iii. p. 151. 



Many a vanish'd year and age, 
And tempest's breath, and battle's rage, 
Have swept o'er Corinth; yet she stands 
A fortress form'd to Freedom's hands. 
The whirlwind's wrath, the ea...Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.

"In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses."

"I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead."

"Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."

the wind left. And I wept....Read More

by Machado, Antonio
...Palacio, good friend,
is spring there
showing itself on branches of black poplars
by the roads and river? On the steeps
of the high Duero, spring is late,
but so soft and lovely when it comes!
Are there a few new leaves
on the old elms?
The acacias must still be bare,
and the mountain peaks snow-filled.
Oh the massed pinks and whites
of Moncayo, massed...Read More

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