Famous Author Poems by Famous Poets

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

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To The Napoleon Column

by Victor Hugo
 {Oct. 9, 1830.} 


 When with gigantic hand he placed, 
 For throne, on vassal Europe based, 
 That column's lofty height— 
 Pillar, in whose dread majesty, 
 In double immortality, 
 Glory and bronze unite! 
 Aye, when he built it that, some day, 
 Discord or war their course might stay, 
 Or here might break...Read more of this...

Who Learns My Lesson Complete?

by Walt Whitman
 WHO learns my lesson complete? 
Boss, journeyman, apprentice—churchman and atheist, 
The stupid and the wise thinker—parents and offspring—merchant, clerk, porter
 and
 customer, 
Editor, author, artist, and schoolboy—Draw nigh and commence; 
It is no lesson—it lets down the bars to a good lesson,
And that to another, and every one to another still. 

The great laws take and effuse without argument;...Read more of this...

To a Child of Quality Five Years Old 1704. The Author then Forty

by Matthew Prior
 LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band 
 That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters, 
Were summoned by her high command 
 To show their passions by their letters. 

My pen amongst the rest I took, 
 Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read, 
Should dart their kindling fire, and look 
 The power they have to be obey'd....Read more of this...

Ye Mariners Who Spread Your Sails

by Victor Hugo
 ("Matelôts, vous déploirez les voiles.") 
 
 {XVI., May 5, 1839.} 


 Ye mariners! ye mariners! each sail to the breeze unfurled, 
 In joy or sorrow still pursue your course around the world; 
 And when the stars next sunset shine, ye anxiously will gaze 
 Upon the shore, a friend or foe, as the windy quarter lays....Read more of this...

The Author to Her Book

by Anne Bradstreet
Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th' press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast...Read more of this...

Tim Turpin

by Thomas Hood
 Tim Turpin he was gravel-blind,
And ne'er had seen the skies :
For Nature, when his head was made,
Forgot to dot his eyes. 

So, like a Christmas pedagogue,
Poor Tim was forced to do -
Look out for pupils; for he had
A vacancy for two.

There's some have specs to help their sight
Of objects dim and small : 
But Tim had specks within his...Read more of this...

Vanity

by Robert William Service
 My tangoing seemed to delight her;
With me it was love at first sight.
I mentioned That I was a writer:
She asked me: "What is it you write?"
"Oh, only best-sellers," I told her.
Their titles? . . . She shook her blonde head;
The atmosphere seemed to grow colder:
Not one of my books had she read.

Oh, she was a beauty ensnaring,
And I was...Read more of this...

154. Lines Inscribed under Fergusson's Portrait

by Robert Burns
 CURSE on ungrateful man, that can be pleased,
And yet can starve the author of the pleasure.
O thou, my elder brother in misfortune,
By far my elder brother in the Muses,
With tears I pity thy unhappy fate!
Why is the Bard unpitied by the world,
Yet has so keen a relish of its pleasures?...Read more of this...

Preface to Hunting of the Snark

by Lewis Carroll
 PREFACE

If---and the thing is wildly possible---the charge of writing 
nonsense were ever brought against the author of this brief but 
instructive poem, it would be based, I feel convinced, on the line 

``Then the bowsprit got mixed with the rudder sometimes'' 

In view of this painful possibility, I will not (as I might) appeal 
indignantly to my other writings...Read more of this...

Venus and Adonis

by William Shakespeare
 Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Who doth the world so gloriously behold
That cedar-tops and hills seem burnish'd gold.

Venus salutes him with this fair good-morrow;
"O thou clear god, and patron of all light,
From whom each lamp and shining star...Read more of this...

The Hill We Climb

by Amanda Gorman
When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade
We've braved the belly of the beast
We've learned that quiet isn't always peace
And the norms and notions
of what just is
Isn't always just-ice
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it
Somehow we do it
Somehow we've weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn't...Read more of this...

The Faerie Queene Book VI Canto X

by Edmund Spenser
Calidore sees the Graces daunce,
To Colins melody:
The whiles his Pastorell is led,
[I]nto captiuity.
 

W Ho now does follow the foule Blatant Beast,
Whilest Calidore does follow that faire Mayd,
Vnmyndfull of his vow and high beheast,
Which by the Faery Queene was on him layd,
That he should neuer leaue, nor be delayd
From chacing him, till he had it attchieued?
But now entrapt of loue,...Read more of this...

An Answer To The Rebus By The Author Of These Poems

by Phillis Wheatley
 The poet asks, and Phillis can't refuse
To show th' obedience of the Infant muse.
She knows the Quail of most inviting taste
Fed Israel's army in the dreary waste;
And what's on Britain's royal standard borne,
But the tall, graceful, rampant Unicorn?
The Emerald with a vivid verdure glows
Among the gems which regal crowns compose;
Boston's a town, polite and debonair, 
To which the beaux...Read more of this...

Light Hearted Author

by William Carlos (WCW) Williams
 The birches are mad with green points 
the wood's edge is burning with their green, 
burning, seething—No, no, no. 
The birches are opening their leaves one 
by one. Their delicate leaves unfold cold 
and separate, one by one. Slender tassels 
hang swaying from the delicate branch tips— 
Oh, I cannot say it. There is no word. 
Black is split...Read more of this...

Fleckno an English Priest at Rome

by Andrew Marvell
 Oblig'd by frequent visits of this man,
Whom as Priest, Poet, and Musician,
I for some branch of Melchizedeck took,
(Though he derives himself from my Lord Brooke)
I sought his Lodging; which is at the Sign
Of the sad Pelican; Subject divine
For Poetry: There three Stair Cases high,
Which signifies his triple property,
I found at last a Chamber, as 'twas said,
But seem'd a Coffin...Read more of this...

To Make A Dadist Poem

by Tristan Tzara
 Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag.
Shake gently.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The...Read more of this...

Grotty And The Quarryman

by Barry Tebb
 (To Paul Sykes, author of 'Sweet Agony')

He demolished five doors at a sitting

And topped it off with an outsize window

One Christmas afternoon, when drunk;

Sober he smiled like an angel, bowed,

Kissed ladies’ hands and courtesy

Was his middle name.

She tried to pass for thirty at fifty-six,

Called him "My Sweet piglet" and laid out

Dainty doylies for his teatime treats; always

She wore black...Read more of this...

Impossible To Tell

by Robert Pinsky
 to Robert Hass and in memory of Elliot Gilbert


Slow dulcimer, gavotte and bow, in autumn,
Bashõ and his friends go out to view the moon;
In summer, gasoline rainbow in the gutter,

The secret courtesy that courses like ichor
Through the old form of the rude, full-scale joke,
Impossible to tell in writing. "Bashõ"

He named himself, "Banana Tree": banana
After the plant some grateful students...Read more of this...

Hugh Selwyn Mauberly (Part I)

by Ezra Pound
 "Vocat aestus in umbram" 
Nemesianus Es. IV. 

E. P. Ode pour l'élection de son sépulchre 

For three years, out of key with his time,
He strove to resuscitate the dead art
Of poetry; to maintain "the sublime"
In the old sense. Wrong from the start --

No, hardly, but, seeing he had been born
In a half savage country, out of date;
Bent resolutely on...Read more of this...

To The Memory Of My Beloved The Author Mr William Shakespeare And What He Hath Left Us

by Ben Jonson
 To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
While I confess thy writings to be such
As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For silliest ignorance on these may light,
Which when it sounds at best but...Read more of this...

Hiawathas Photographing

by Lewis Carroll
 From his shoulder Hiawatha
Took the camera of rosewood,
Made of sliding, folding rosewood;
Neatly put it all together.
In its case it lay compactly,
Folded into nearly nothing; 

But he opened out the hinges,
Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges,
Till it looked all squares and oblongs,
Like a complicated figure
In the Second Book of Euclid. 

This he perched upon a tripod -
Crouched beneath its...Read more of this...

The Author Of The Jesus Papers Speaks

by Anne Sexton
 In my dream
I milked a cow,
the terrible udder
like a great rubber lily
sweated in my fingers
and as I yanked,
waiting for the moon juice,
waiting for the white mother,
blood spurted from it
and covered me with shame.
Then God spoke to me and said:
People say only good things about Christmas.
If they want to say something bad,
they whisper.
So I went to the well and drew...Read more of this...

Forgetfulness

by Billy Collins
 The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long...Read more of this...

VERSES Occasioned by a Young Ladys asking the Author What was a Cure for Love?

by Thomas Godfrey
 From me, my Dear, O seek not to receive
What e'en deep-read Experience cannot give.
We may, indeed, from the Physician's skill
Some Med'cine find to cure the body's ill.
But who e'er found the physic for the soul,
Or made th' affections bend to his controul?
When thro' the blaze of passion objects show
How dark 's the shade! how bright the colours glow!
All the...Read more of this...

To The Author Of Glare

by David Lehman
 There comes a time when the story turns into twenty
different stories and soon after that he academy of shadows
retreats to the cave of a solitary boy in a thriving

metropolis where no one remembers the original story
whic is, of course, a sign of its great success: to be forgotten
implies you were once known, and that is something we

can prize more...Read more of this...

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